


A World Apart

by dapperanachronism



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Get Together, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Build, Swearing, unestablished relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 49,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8713192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/pseuds/dapperanachronism
Summary: The accords are in pieces, the team is scattered and divided, Steve is in hiding, Tony is trying to move on, and both are left trying to pick up the pieces of what little remains. But the threats that drew them all together in the first place are still out there, and picking up the pieces means finding themselves pulled back together whether they're ready for it or not.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all a huge thanks goes out to my artists [Caz ](http://cazdraws.tumblr.com/)and [Redpepperink](http://redpepperink.tumblr.com/). I was lucky enough to work with two amazing artists who created amazing work that inspired me through to the end, and they also provided me continuous support. The art is embedded and you can fine Caz's [here ](https://68.media.tumblr.com/0ca9ee38d13b1edf16eff60f226e8ea4/tumblr_ohewn9wW5H1tqwrxgo1_1280.png)and Redpepperink [here](https://68.media.tumblr.com/baeac21edcf086511acc99d4ddf0375a/tumblr_ohhqx7ykmV1srvlnpo1_540.jpg).
> 
> Another giant thanks goes to [Robin_tCJ ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ)who helped me work through some of the sticky plot bits and who is the Queen of betaing. It was her hard work that helped to wrangle all the wayward grammar and typo's of which there were many. 
> 
> As always, thanks as well to the Cap-Im community who provided support, encouragement, listened to me whine and made this entire project possible.
> 
> I took a lot of liberties with politics and science during this story, fair warning.

It had been Bucky’s choice. It was supposed to be ‘for the best’, that’s what Bucky had said. But standing in that quiet room, staring into the frozen cryo tank and listening to the soft beeps and hums of the machines monitoring Bucky’s vitals, Steve was having a hell of hard time accepting that. It had been less than forty eight hours since Bucky had gone back under and less than two weeks since Steve had actually gotten him back in his life again. Seeing him like this still made his chest ache something fierce.

“You know you’re not really losing him.” Sam’s voice was jarring, ripping him away from the white noise of his own head. Steve turned to find the other man leaning back against the door, arms folded over his chest and wondered how long Sam had been standing there. “He’s right here and he’s safe,” Sam continued. “That’s a hell of a lot better than he was a few weeks ago and better than he could be, all things considered.”

If this was the best case scenario, then he really _had_ fucked up.

“Except he was safe in Bucharest. Or as safe as he could be before he got pulled back into this mess,” Steve responded bitterly. “The whole time we were chasing him he didn’t want to be found – and he was good at that.” Pushing himself away from the door, Sam took a few steps further into the room, stopping beside Steve in front of the tank. He could just make out Bucky’s features behind the frosted glass.

“But we kept looking because you and I both knew that that wasn’t going to last. Sooner or later someone was going to come looking for him, something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve agreed reluctantly. His hand dropped from where it was resting on the glass and he took a step back and turned to leave. Staring at the tank wouldn’t help Bucky. It wouldn’t fix everything that was broken. It certainly wouldn’t make the weight that had settled on his shoulders any lighter. Reaching over as he passed, Sam squeezed his arm gently and followed as Steve made his way out of the room without looking back.

The wing they were staying in was quiet, removed from the hustle and bustle of the palace – which they were all grateful for. After the Raft breakout, T’Challa had welcomed them as his guests and extended to them all the protection of warrior and king that came with that, but the fact remained that they were all fugitives, and they all had demons to come to terms with. Here, they’d been given much needed space and sanctuary to recover in the aftermath of everything that had happened.

The end of the corridor opened up into a terrace with beautiful stonework and lush greenery. It was here that Steve stopped, leaning up against one of the stone railings, absently watching the shadows grow longer under the orange and pink sky, the heat of the day still lingering in the air. For a long while, neither of them spoke, and when at last Steve did break the not-uncomfortable silence hanging between them, it was with obvious hesitation and uncertainty.

“I keep asking myself if I did the right thing,” he confessed. “I still don’t agree with the Accords, and I stand by going after Bucky and defending him. I knew Zemo was a threat and I acted as best I could with the intel I had. I _know_ that. But I keep running over everything in my head, wondering if there’s anything that I could have done differently.” There was, he knew there was, the truth he’d kept hidden from Tony… shaking his head, he pushed that thought aside. “I never wanted to break us apart like this.”

“We make our choices, Steve. Like you said: o the best of our abilities. And then we just have to live with the consequences,” Sam responded heavily.

“Even if that means getting arrested and becoming a fugitive?” Steve tried to keep his tone light and from the way the corner of Sam’s mouth quirked up he managed it – if only barely.

“My mom gave me a hell of an earful,” Sam admitted with a light huff. “‘Samuel Wilson, just what the hell kind of mess are you in now?’ She watches all the reports, follows everything we do. Man, I told her what happened, that I wasn’t going to be able to come visit for a while and you know what she said after that? She said she was proud of me for fighting for what I believed in, for fighting for my friends. Told me never to stop, ‘come home when you can son, and until then, never give up. Look out for yourself. And tell that Rogers boy to be careful’. She’s got your number, Steve, and she ain’t even met you yet.”

At that Steve chuckled to himself. “Well, she’s probably not wrong,” he admitted.

“I do what I can to keep her out of this, and she’s used to there being a lot of stuff I can’t talk about ever since I enlisted,” Sam continued. “But she deserved to know why I couldn’t come home. And... honestly? I needed her.” The confession was quiet, but without hesitation. After all the time they’d spent together, everything they’d been through, this was far from the first personal thing either of them had shared. “We’re close, Mom and I. When I came home after being discharged, she’s the one who met me at the airfield. She stood beside me at Riley’s funeral. She’s the one who picked me up and got me back on my feet. So after -- after the airport --” he cut himself off, but Steve could easily fill in the rest himself.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Steve regretted the words the moment he said them. Even to him, they felt hollow and empty.

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” The resignation in Sam’s voice was heavy, as was the guilt on Steve’s shoulders. His choices had brought them to that point. Sam’s fingers tapped absently against the stone railing they were leaning against, the corners of his eyes showing a fatigue that he couldn’t hide. “You know for a minute, when I saw him go down, I could have sworn I was back there.” He let out a shaky breath and Steve shifted over so their shoulders were pressed together.

“You been sleeping okay?” Steve asked, concerned, even though he was already pretty sure of the answer.

“About as well as you have.”

“Fair enough,” Steve laughed, hollow and without humour. “You know Rhodes is going to be okay. He’s got a genius on his side and the best damn medical care in the world.”

“That helps,” Sam admitted, wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath to centre himself. “Speaking of geniuses...” He trailed off and glanced over at Steve expectantly.

“I haven’t heard from him, and honestly, I don’t expect to. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

“That’s the understatement of the damn century.”

It still hurt. More than he was willing to admit to Sam, or to Bucky, or even to himself. He was used to arguing with Tony, that was fine. But in Siberia, he still wasn’t sure they hadn't actually been trying to kill each other. It was the question he kept asking himself, over and over again. How far would they have gone? Tony, in his rage at learning the truth, Steve in trying to protect Bucky and keep him alive. He shuddered at the thought.

“I don’t blame him, you know,” Steve responded after a moment.

“Uh huh. That why you put your shield through his chest?” Sam raised an eyebrow.

“He was trying to kill Bucky. I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Steve said, unapologetic, though the vicious ferocity with which he fought, the way in which he was prepared to hurt Tony to keep Bucky safe still weighed heavily on his mind. “I don’t blame him for being upset,” he clarified. “And I don’t blame him for hating me for keeping the truth from him.”

“We had a lot of tough, shitty calls to make, Steve, and a lot of them didn’t have a good option. Just bad and worse. I get why you didn’t say anything, man. In your place, I’m not sure I’d have acted any differently.”

A gentle silence settled back between them. The sun had fully set by this point and the stars were just becoming visible in the darkening night sky, quiet and peaceful. Eventually, the sound of approaching footsteps softly pulled them both from their respective reflection, and both turned to see their host.

“It is a beautiful place to think,” T’Challa acknowledged, glancing around the small courtyard. “I have come here often myself, when I was in need of a moment of peace.”

“It is,” Steve agreed, leaning backward against the railing, waiting for T’Challa to continue. They hadn’t seen the King since Bucky had gone under. The world hadn’t stopped just because they’d taken refuge, and along with being the ruler of his country, T’Challa was now their main point of contact to the outside world.

“Where are we at?” Sam asked, anxious for news, a plan, anything other than playing the waiting game they were stuck in the middle of.

“That is a complicated question,” T’Challa responded apologetically. “And one best addressed indoors, I think. There is a time for peaceful thought and there is a time for action. Right now, we need action.”

They fell into step beside him, and T’Challa led the way back through the palace, out of the wing where they had been staying, and up to a large conference room. A large screen was mounted against one wall, the long table in the middle of the room seemed to have terminals built into it, and it all hooked into Wakanda’s advanced network. The information displayed was updated in real time. There was space for notes, and everything was designed to share information easily. It was in every way a war-room, just a hell of a lot more advanced than anything Steve had seen before – an impressive feat, for someone used to dealing with SHIELD and Tony Stark.

Clint and Wanda were already seated at the table, along with a couple of the scientists who were in charge of the work and research around Bucky. Ayo -- the head of the Dora Milaje and T’Challa’s security -- and several of T’Challa’s closest advisors were also present. The king took his seat at the head of the table, motioning for Steve and Sam to do the same. Steve dropped into a seat between Sam and Wanda and glanced about the room, tamping down on his rising nerves. This meeting was long overdue. They’d been waiting in limbo ever since arriving in Wakanda, waiting for the dust to settle, waiting for news from the outside -- real news, not just what they could glean from the media and internet and vague reports. They needed hard intel, and for that they needed T’Challa.

“Let’s cut straight to the point, shall we?” T’Challa said, effectively calling their informal meeting to order. “As we expected, there is a good deal of chaos and confusion in the United Nations right now. Helmut Zemo is set to stand trial, but there is a good deal of arguing over jurisdiction, calls for extradition, even a call for him to be sent up to the International Criminal Court.” Beside him, Steve heard Sam cough quietly, but it was enough to draw T’Challa’s attention, a slight tilt of his head and a soft chuckle. “I doubt it will come to that. The Austrian Government will have first crack at him. What happens from there remains to be seen.

“There is also the issue of the Accords,” he continued, a pinched expression settling on his face. Steve glanced away briefly, trying to quash down the guilt.

“The Accords were a complete failure,” Steve said honestly, and T’Challa nodded solemnly in reply.

“My father had only the best intentions when he proposed the Accords. I, too, embraced their idea for the greater good. But when they were put to the test, newly formed and fragile, they fell apart. I am equally to blame for that.”

“A lot of us are equally to blame for that,” Sam added.

“True though that may be,” T’Challa acknowledged, “the fact remains that nearly every person who signed the agreement ended up breaking it. Myself, Mr. Stark, Miss Romanoff-”

“Pretty much everyone except Vision and Rhodes,” Clint put in. Sam’s shoulders hunched at the comment, arms folded over his chest as T’Challa pressed on.

“Our actions, and the inability to find a common ground has made many realise, myself included, that these agreements were drafted too hastily, with too little consideration. The United Nations has agreed that they wish to pursue the Accords, but that it should be done with more consideration. And, perhaps, with more input from those that they directly affect.” He nodded to Steve.

“To that end, the UN will be forming a committee to discuss the new form that the Accords will take and to draft a new proposal. And, in the interest of finding common ground, it has been suggested that members of the Avengers join and provide their input.”

“By ‘suggested’ you mean...” Steve began.

“The choice is of course entirely yours,” T’Challa assured him, “But for the most part, we believe that it would be in everyone’s best interest to include Mr. Stark and yourself in these negotiations.”

“I thought you said you wanted these agreements to pass,” Clint said bitterly, and Wanda elbowed him in the arm.

“What?” he asked, rubbing his arm in mock pain. “I’m just saying, look what happened last time Stark and Rogers were in a room together. Does anyone really want a repeat of that?”

Steve was silent where he sat, arms folded over his chest, but he was inclined to agree with Clint. To his credit, T’Challa smiled patiently.

“That is exactly why we need them both, Mr. Barton. In the very short time I have known him, I have come to recognise that asking Steve Rogers to stop fighting is like asking the sun not to rise.” Steve raised his chin fractionally, instinctively defiant, two intense stares meeting from across the table. Behind T’Challa’s, there was a flicker of amusement and understanding -- but the face he put forward was that of a king, a ruler. “Realistically, in order for the accords to take root, to truly make a difference, we must have you both on board.”

Steve glanced around the room, Sam, Wanda, Clint --each of them had their own reasons for fighting the Accords but the reality was, he was the common denominator. He’d said fight, and they’d fought. He’d needed cover, they had followed. He’d stood up for them and they’d all gone down for him. If he signed an agreement, balance of probability suggested that they would trust him enough to believe it would protect them.

“We failed the first time, and I am not blameless in that,” T’Challa continued. “I allowed my grief to cloud my judgement. The world cannot afford to not try again. And so I am asking you to consider.”

He could say no. T’Challa hadn’t placed any real demands on him, so he was free to say no. But on the other hand... T’Challa had placed no demands on him. And it wasn’t just himself he had to think about, it was Natasha, desperate to keep them together; it was Sam, who’d followed him around the world; it was Clint, who had kids to go back to; Wanda, who had no home; Bucky, who was still a wanted man. They couldn’t spend the rest of their lives hiding out here.

“Fine,” he said at last. “A meeting. I can’t promise you anything more than that. But I will meet with the committee, and I’m bringing a list of conditions.”

“I would expect nothing less, Captain Rogers,” T’Challa responded with amusement. “Thank you for acquiescing. I recognise that this was not an easy request.”

“No, but a hell of a lot has changed since Ross walked in and started hurling demands at us.” He wasn’t bitter, not really. Except that he completely was, about Ross showing up in their home, reading them the riot act, openly threatening them- “I don’t suppose it would be possible to request that Secretary Ross _not_ sit on that committee?” Steve asked, resigned to the answer.

“Yeah, man, I second that,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair.

“Secretary Ross would not be my first choice -- he is rather more confrontational than I think this situation demands -- and I believe that having the Secretary of State for the United States Government sitting on the committee might provide rather more weight in favour of the United States than anyone is really comfortable with. So I do not imagine that he will be a part of this discussion -- though, I fully expect some opposition from him on that. But that is not for you to worry about.”

Well, that was a damn relief for sure. Ross had his own agenda, always, and there was no change that agenda was ever going to mesh with what was in the best interest for Steve’s team.

“The council is still working on setting up a time and a place, but we hope to start moving quickly,” T’Challa said.

Steve couldn’t agree more. It beat wandering around Wakanda feeling useless and guilty.

“With that sorted, there is one more thing we need to discuss.” Stepping aside, T’Challa motioned for the heads of the medical and science teams to take the floor.

A woman rose -- Dr. Kirui. Steve had spoken with her quite a bit over the past few days, since she'd taken the lead in Bucky's care. She cleared her throat.

“Using the scans we took of Sgt.Barnes’ arm and shoulder, we are more than capable of building him a replacement without much trouble.” Her fingers moved rapidly over a small tablet, and a second later a holo projection of Bucky's shoulder appeared. “As you can see here, the actual point of connection and the neural interface remained undamaged. It will be possible to integrate a replacement with minimal pain and difficulty. I have a team ready to start fabrication on a prototype.”

“Thank you and your team for your work, Doctor. See that it gets done as quickly as possible. If there are any unforeseen problems, it would be better to know sooner. I am sure that Sgt. Barnes would appreciate the use of all his limbs when he wakes.” The doctor nodded at T’Challa’s request and closed the file.

“That, however, is the simple part,” she continued uneasily. “An arm will be little use unless we can solve the more difficult problem and meet Barnes' request.”

“Any progress on that end?” T’Challa asked. Setting down the tablet, the doctor looked over at him seriously.

“We need the book.” Steve's stomach dropped at her words, and beside him Sam's fingers brushed over his arm, light enough he could have almost missed it, but keeping him grounded. As if sensing his discomfort, the doctor looked to him, her expression softening. “In order to undo what has been done to him, we need to understand it. That book has vital information that could unlock the mystery of something we don’t fully understand. Given time, we could untangle the Web ourselves, but with the right information, we believe we would be able to undo the conditioning in a fraction of the time.”

She was right. Steve knew she was right, but he hated the very idea of that book. Once Bucky was back, Steve vowed they'd take it out back and burn the damn thing, just to be rid of it for good. But first of all they had to find it.

“Zemo had it with him when he escaped after using it on Bucky. Did he have it on him when he was arrested?” Steve asked, fingers tapping against the arm of his chair.

“I will investigate, but I suspect something of that value, he would have kept hidden. Even if he did have no further use of it.” So, they'd have to track it down. Something he could actually do so he wasn't stuck pacing around inside his own head. “I know that expression, Captain.” T’Challa cut him off halfway through formulating the beginning of a plan. “This is not a task for you.” Steve opened his mouth to object that this damn well _was_ a task for him, thank you very much, but T’Challa didn't give him the chance. “You are needed elsewhere. You and your crew are still wanted fugitives. You cannot move with the speed and ease required. There are others here who can help.” He nodded toward Ayo, who’d remained quiet throughout the meeting -- though her laser focus had not wavered for a moment.

“Consider it done,” she said shortly.

“Thank you. Until then, we will continue our work,” the Doctor assured them.

“But you will be able to help?” Steve asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Captain Rogers, nothing is certain. We have never encountered something like this. And as I said, we do not fully understand the workings of it,” The Doctor said slowly. “But our team is the best. We have leading edge technology and research, scientists devoted to discovering the undiscovered, to solving the unsolvable. I can promise you nothing, except that if there is a way to help your friend, we will find it.”

“If I can help --” Wanda spoke up suddenly, and then instantly looked unsure. “You know what I can do. If I can help.”

“We don't know what we'll need, but we will accept every bit of help. It may be that we do, in fact, need your unique skill set.” Wanda’s expression hardened into resolve, a hint of red flickering in her eyes and dissipating as quickly as it had come. Around them, people rose to their feet, quickly gathering things and talking in low voices that Steve tuned out as he jumped up and went to make his own hasty, quiet retreat. Just as he reached the door, he felt the weight of a hand settle on his arm, stopping him. He turned, only to be met with T’Challa’s determined expression.

“You are not alone in this, Captain Rogers,” T’Challa reminded him, and behind him Sam, Wanda and Clint all stood with their own fierce resolve. Steve tried to smile and managed something closer to an appreciative grimace before turning on his heels and leaving them behind. He needed air.

He let his feet lead him back through the corridors of the palace, down through the courtyard that he and Sam had been in earlier, and along a path through the trees lit only by the dim rays from the stars and the moon that filtered down through the branches. It should be him out there, hunting down the book. It should be him finishing off the fight that he had started. It should be him that Bucky was trusting with something that was so representative of everything that he hated about himself, that had the power to take away every bit of the control that he’d fought for. Or maybe, it was just that he wasn’t fully prepared to admit that he had a hell of a lot less control than he’d like over this mess they’d ended up in. The mess that he should feel more guilty about, but he honestly didn’t. He’d done what he had to do with the information he’d had to work with. He’d kept Bucky alive and everyone else unharmed. The reality was that he wouldn’t have changed what he had done.

He stopped when the path he was on brought him down to a stream, gently rolling through the rocky banks. Without thinking about what he he was doing, Steve pulled his phone from his pocket, pulling up his contact list and dialing with haste. The call tone rang in his ear, and again, and again until it just became a lull. He was about to end the call when it clicked over and a voice at the other end spoke.

“Steve.” The voice came, soft and familiar.

“Hey Nat.” He responded, breathing a sigh of relief. A long moment of silence stretched between them, not the least bit awkward until Natasha spoke again.

“How is he?”

“He’s --” There was no good answer, no easy way to stay it. His throat tightened as he responded.

“He went back under.” Another pause. “Until we can find a way to -- uh... undo it all. The conditioning. He thinks it’s safer that way. That he can’t trust his own head.”

“And you don’t agree,” Natasha stated without hint of a question.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. It was his choice,” Steve said automatically.

“But you don’t agree,” Natasha reiterated. She waited patiently for his response through the dead air. He didn’t want to respond, there was nothing to say, nothing that mattered anyway. But still --

“-- No, I don’t,” Steve snapped, instantly regretting the edge in his tone. “I mean, he’s already safe here. As safe as he can be. Putting himself under isn’t going to make him any safer. I don’t understand.”

“It’s like you said. He doesn’t trust his own mind,” Natasha’s tone was careful. “Maybe it’s just the words, maybe something else can set him off that he doesn’t remember. If he’s out, he can’t hurt anyone. That’s his way of thinking.”

“I know.” Steve's shoulders slumped and he dropped himself down on a large rock near the stream. “Doesn’t make it easier. I just got him back, Nat.”

“And now he’s trusting you to watch out for him. He went under, which leaves him totally defenseless. I guarantee you that he wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t trust you completely to keep him safe.”

It helped, a little, being reminded of that, but it didn’t do much to take away the sting of having Bucky back, so close and yet just out of reach.

“Are they going to be able to help him?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, but they need the book.” It was Natasha’s turn now to respond with momentary silence as Steve continued. “T’Challa has people out looking for where Zemo might have stashed it.”

“Siberia is as good a place as any to start looking. I’ll see what I can do to help. If nothing else, I’ll persuade him to tell us.” The way she said it would have been chilling, had he been anyone else. Not for the first time, Steve was grateful that he wasn’t the one on the receiving end of her cold, deadly anger. “You’re not helping with the search?”

Steve shook his head even though she had no way of seeing it. “No. I have other things to do. T’Challa told me about the new council.”

“And you agreed.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, closing his eyes briefly.

“You know what that means, right?”

He did know. He’d known as soon as T’Challa has said that the council wanted them both. He was going to have to see Tony again, face to face. They were going to have to go back and have the same damn argument that had started this whole mess in the first place. He was going to have to look into Tony’s eyes and live with the hatred that he saw there -- hatred directed at him. Steve didn’t honestly believe that his note and the promise that he’d be there should Tony need him would even come close to patching the damage that had been done.

“Yeah, I know. How… how is he?” Steve hesitated to ask, not sure he was ready to hear the answer.

“Well, I might not be in the best position to say. I’m not exactly his favourite person. As far as he’s concerned, I’m lucky I didn’t end up in the Raft, too.” As grave as her words were, her tone was lighter and that was promising.

“Hey, T’Challa managed to forgive you,” Steve pointed out with a hint of a smile.

“Yes, well. T’Challa isn’t Tony Stark,” she reasoned, and Steve hummed in agreement. “But... honestly, he’s as good as can be expected. Spending a lot of time with Rhodes, who’s making a good recovery. Slow, but good.”

“Sam’ll be happy to hear that. Will you keep an eye on him for me? As best you can?”

“Always,” she promised. “Get some sleep, Steve. You sound exhausted.”

“Yeah, okay,” he conceded. “Thanks.”

After he’d hung up, he stayed outside for a while longer, listening to the sounds of the water, relishing in the eerie peace, and the feeling of limbo that came during the night. Eventually, he pushed himself back to his feet and started the trek back to the palace. He’d be of no use to anyone dead on his feet.

 

* * *

 

“Tony, would you stop tinkering?”

“I’m not -”

“Yes, you are, you’re tinkering.” Okay, so maybe Rhodey was right, but Tony wasn’t about to admit it.

“It’s performance enhancing. Who doesn’t love that? And if you want-”

“Tony!” The sharpness of Rhodey’s voice had Tony’s hands stilling, fingers wrapped tightly around the tiny screwdriver that he’d been using to prod at one of the joints around Rhodey’s brace. The work space around them was littered with precision tools and blown-up detailed schematics of joint work, Rhody’s leg propped up and stretched out. Reluctantly, Tony set down the screwdriver and looked up at Rhodey. “It’s fine,” he continued, voice softening. “We’ve tested it a hundred times. This iteration works flawlessly. And no, that is not a suggestion that you start working on a new version. I don’t need a dozen different models.”

“But what about --”

“No,” Rhodey cut him off before Tony could go on another tirade. “What I have here is the best in the world. I know you still feel guilty, but don’t. Stop tinkering. There’s a lot of other stuff that needs your attention right now.”

“Yeah well, you’re kind of my priority, Honey Bear.” Tony’s attempts to come across carefree fell horribly flat, though neither chose to mention it. Probably because the words were the heavy truth. He’d flown Rhodey across the country, arranged for all of his treatments, been there when Rhodey had woken up from surgery, arranged for physical therapy when they’d finally made it back to the facility in New York. And yet, here he was, still tinkering, still trying to make something that didn’t need fixing better. He was trying to be a good friend, this was what friends did, right? It was all about Rhodey, and certainly had nothing do with all the rooms in the base that now sat empty. Or the fact that Tony was trying to avoid sleep. Or that fact that he was trying to avoid a lot of things, really.

“I know I am, and I’m grateful for that. The last few weeks have sucked but I’m actually really glad you’ve been here.”

“Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head. I still owe you for that time you spent three months combing the desert for me,” Tony joked. Beside him Rhodey broke into a grin of his own.

“And that time I saved you from the crazy Russian bird guy. And Hammer.”

“Hey now, I’m pretty sure that got balanced out that time I helped you save the President.”

“Yeah, fine, I’ll give you that one.” Rhodey conceded, both of them stifling giggles. Once they’d managed to get themselves under control Rhodes looked back at Tony a little more seriously. “I mean it, though. Thanks for everything, Tony.”

It was easier to just turn away and shut down the displays and pile away all of the tools than it was to acknowledge Rhodey’s thanks, but the gentle squeeze on his arm as Rhodey used it to steady himself as he lowered his leg back to the ground said it all. Reaching behind them, Tony grabbed the crutch that Rhodes was still reliant on. He’d made amazing progress and the braces did wonders, but the reality was that recovery was still a hell of a lot slower than either of them would like, and Rhodey had been pushing himself harder than he should have the past few days. Not that Tony would know anything about that. Certainly not.

“Come on,” Tony said as he slid the crutch under Rhodey’s arm on the one side and himself on the other, under the guise of being an intentional pain in the ass. “I’m starved. Think there might still be some ginger beef in the fridge.”

In the kitchen, Rhodey settled himself at the counter while Tony meandered about, pulling out leftovers and making coffee more out of habit by this point than anything else. He pointedly ignored the pang in his chest when he realised that the take out was still there because no one was around to raid the fridge anymore, and instead let himself get distracted by the ping of a notification from Rhodey’s phone and the thoughtful hum that followed a moment later.

“What is it, sunshine?” he asked, dumping everything into a pan on the stove top and giving it a stir.

“Looks like the UN committee on the Accords has been officially greenlit. We’re just waiting on a time and place for the meeting. Probably a couple of weeks so they can sort out security.”

“Sure, why not? This is a great idea. Because it worked out so well the last time,” Tony muttered as he stabbed at the pan with more force than necessary.

“You better think it’s a good idea. I mean, since you agreed to sit on the committee.”

“Hey, they asked for me,” Tony reminded him, turning around and brandishing the spoon.

“And for good reason. And I’m glad you said yes,” Rhodey responded. “You do still think it’s the right idea, don’t you?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” He’d meant it the first time Ross had dropped the ultimatum, he’d meant it when he told Pepper maybe this could be their halfway, and he’d sure meant it when they brought Barnes in the first time and he’d desperately tried to get Steve on board. Hell, he’d even meant it even as he broke the Accords himself and flew off to the middle of Siberia to back Steve up. “We need this, we both know that. The Accords are dead in the water. Hell, they never got off the ground.”

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of things complicating it the last time around. We’ll do better,” Rhodey promised.

“Boss, just a heads up, but I thought you’d want to know that Agent Romanoff has returned,” FRIDAY’s voice piped up from his phone laying out on the counter.

“I told you, I'm not exactly an agent anymore,” Natasha said, tilting her head as she walked into the kitchen. She was as perfectly composed as she always was, but there was a hint of tightness in the corners of her eyes that spoke to the fact that she was still as run down as Tony felt. An awkward silence fell between them, just a beat before she sighed and folded her arms over her chest.

“We're still doing this?” she asked, her voice a little stung.

“We should,” Tony snapped back before he deflated, shoulders slumping a little. “But no, we're not.” He didn't have the energy to fight her. She studied him carefully in that way that he hated, the one that made him feel like she was somehow managing to peer deep inside his head and hear every damn thing he was thinking. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that it wasn’t some kind of hidden secret soviet mind-reading power. The moment passed and she turned away, shifting her focus to Rhodey.

“You’re looking well. How’re you feeling?”

“Recovery is a bitch,” Rhodey responded honestly, drawing a small huff of a laugh from Natasha.

“It is that,” she agreed. The tense silence between the three of them was broken only by the sound of Tony clattering pans and pulling down plates from the cupboard. It settled around him, awkward and unwelcome. They’d spoken over the past few weeks -- really, it had been impossible not to -- but there had been a distance there and Natasha had been gone more than she’d been at the base. Doing what, Tony hadn’t bother to ask. And now there was this weird undercurrent that Tony had decided he hated. He knew what she was asking in the silence but he’d be damned if he was going to try and trip over words to answer her. Words hadn’t been doing much of a damn thing to help him recently anyway. Shutting off the stove he dumped the leftovers onto three plates and carried them over to the island, pointedly setting one down in front of her and holding out a fork. She hesitated only for a brief moment before accepting it, her expression softening. Just like that, the tension dissipated and the air seemed to move again as Tony took his own seat and tucked in.

“You got the memo on the meetings?” Natasha asked just as Rhodey swallowed a mouthful of ginger beef.

“Yeah, just waiting for the time and place,” he responded as Tony remained silent.

“Geneva,” she informed them. “They’re hoping next week. I’m headed there tomorrow to help with security.” At that, Tony raised an eyebrow.

“I hate to admit it, but I kind of feel better knowing you’re heading up security,” he admitted.

“I don’t know about heading up, but I’m definitely providing... let’s say consultation. We can’t afford another Vienna. Besides, there’s going to be people I care about on the inside.” A hint of reassurance settled in Tony’s stomach as she looked over at him pointedly, but a split second later the rest slid into place.

“People. As in plural. As in more than just me,” he said flatly. In his gut he could feel what was coming but it didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Steve agreed to come,” she said evenly. Tony sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers against the table.

“Right, right. Cause that’s a great idea. This is going to end so well,” he snorted.

“Hey, you knew this is what the UN was gunning for when you agreed,” Rhodey reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Tony pushed himself to his feet and paced the kitchen, circling around to the other side of the counter. “I mean, really. He’s made his choice and he made his point pretty damn clearly. It’s a waste of time.”

“We need him, Tony. If we want to have a hope in hell of bringing everyone home,” Natasha insisted.

“Everyone that he broke out of prison? You mean the team of fugitives that he’s hiding out there somewhere?”

“You and I both know he had help with that Tony. He might not have realised he had help, but he did.” Her words were a punch to the gut and he turned around, grabbing the pan from the stove and throwing it into the sink with more force than was strictly necessary. He’d never admit it, never confirm anything, but he could feel Natasha’s eyes boring into his back, reminding him that he didn’t have to say anything for her to have figured it out.

“What? Are you -- seriously, Tony? You helped him break them out?” Rhodey sputtered in disbelief. “After you got them taken down in the first place?”

“I never wanted them in the fucking Raft,” Tony snapped, slamming his hand down on the counter and forcing himself to take a breath. “I didn’t help him. So maybe the security was a bit light. Maybe there were a few more blind spots than normal. Maybe the guards were distracted. Or maybe this is the same guy who broke into Fort Meade like it was a Sunday afternoon picnic in the park.”

“To be fair, he also had help in Fort Meade,” Natasha reminded him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tony snapped, turning around and leaning back against the counter, arms folded over his chest. “You’re never going to get him to agree to anything reasonable.”

“I hope for all our sakes, you’re wrong. We need this, Tony. We need both of you.” She wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t make the idea of being in the same room as Steve again, of seeing him face to face, any easier to stomach.

“You knew, too, didn’t you?” he asked suddenly, switching gears without a hint of warning. Natasha, to her credit, didn’t flinch as she met his accusing look.

“Yes, I did.” She raised her chin slightly, pressing on before he could respond. “I had my suspicions before, but I didn’t know for sure until Steve started digging, and chasing after Barnes.”

“And what, you didn’t think to bother --”

“I did think,” she cut him off before he could continue down that road. “I did think about you, Tony, and don’t you dare accuse me otherwise. I thought about telling you, and I chose not to. It wasn’t my place.”

It would have been so easy to snap at her, to take all his anger and frustration and throw it in her face, and for a brief moment Tony considered it. She was waiting for it, too, ready to accept whatever he was about throw at her. Rhodey was sitting quietly, his eyes shifting between the two of them on full alert until Tony deflated, shoulders slumping.

“I’ll have my jet sent up here first thing in the morning to fly you over there,” he said to save himself from having to respond. As he turned to leave, Natasha quickly rose to her feet and made her way around to his side of the island.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’ll stand by my decision, but I’m not sure it was the right one. I’m not sure any decision was the right one.”

Tony said nothing, but he didn’t pull away when he felt her hand settle on his arm and squeeze. Only when her hand dropped, did he step away to leave.

“Stay safe, Romanoff. I’m going to regret saying this but we need you, too.” Behind him he heard her light chuckle, and as he left the kitchen he was pretty sure she overheard her telling Rhodey to ‘keep on eye him, he needs you.’ Never under pain of death would he admit it -- certainly not to her -- but having her here, still looking out for him after everything... it felt kind of nice.


	2. Chapter 2

Less than a week later saw Tony boarding his jet, reflecting on the fact that when Natasha said she was going to get something done by a certain time, she damn well got it done.

“Hold down the fort, no wild parties while I’m gone,” he’d winked at Rhodey before he left. It had earned him a roll of the eye and smart remark in return.

“You’re the last person who gets to lecture me about throwing parties. I will throw all the wild parties I damn well please,” Rhodey had scoffed before giving Tony a quick hug.

“Take care of yourself over there. Try not to piss off too many people. And call if you need anything.”

“I make no promises.”

He’d waved as he’d climbed up the stairs to board, chased by the sound of Rhodey's voice.

“I ain’t bailing your ass out of prison when you punch someone,” Rhodey had yelled.

Now, glass in hand, staring out the window somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, Tony wished with everything that he had that Rhodey were there with him. Nevermind the fact that the council wanted the first meeting to be ‘small’ to ‘get an idea of where we're starting and where we need to end up,’ which was diplomatic speak for ‘get Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in the same room without them trying to kill each other.’ Nevermind the fact that Rhodey was still in recovery and although he’d never admit it, wasn’t quite up for intercontinental trips, let alone United Nations meetings and all the crap that went with them. Nevermind the fact that he was Tony fucking Stark and he could handle a room full of suits in his sleep. In a little less than eight hours he was going to walk into a room and have to look Steve in the face again, and there was a part of him that just wished he could have his best friend there to fall back on.

His phone pinged a notification, a blessed distraction from the dangerous line of thinking he was about to head toward.

“Huh... almost forgot about you,” he muttered to himself as he scrolled through the e-mail. With everything else that had happened he’d completely forgotten about the follow-up visit he’d scheduled with MIT following the announcement of the launch of the September foundation. On his phone now sat a proposed itinerary for the day, a chance to meet with some of the up and coming students to actually discuss some of the research they were doing. It was a chance to spend a day getting his hands dirty with some of the best and brightest young minds, and right then it sounded a hell of a lot better than facing the gauntlet of a UN meeting. Something to look forward to, then, he thought as he quickly fired off a reply confirming his attendance. If Rhodey was up for it maybe Tony would drag him along, get him doing something fun for a couple days. It would be a good break for the both of them, back running around the old grounds.

The rest of the flight he spent skimming over a few of the student’s proposals, and by the time the plane finally touched down in Geneva he was almost feeling calm again. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find a car and an escort waiting for him once he’d finished up with the customs officials. A mere ten minutes after getting into the car, Tony was pulling through the gates to the Palace of Nations, wishing beyond anything that he had more time as the imposing structure loomed in front of him. The car pulled up, letting him off at the front steps where another team was there to greet him.

“Good day Mr. Stark.” A tall guy in a grey suit greeted him in heavily accented English. “If you would allow me to show you in?” The man held out his arm to usher Tony up the stairs and Tony flashed him a trademark grin as he stepped into line beside him. The small escort team he’d amassed -- and really, it was like no one trusted him to find his way on his own -- moved with him through the wide vaulted corridors of the building, up a couple of floors and into a more private wing. At the end of a hall was a large open board room, floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the grounds and beyond that the crisp, blue lake. As he stepped into the room the mixed conversations softened as several pairs of eyes tracked over to him.

“Mr. Stark, so glad that you could join us.” A man who had very clearly and recently dyed his hair to cover the grey offered his hand to shake and a smile that felt less than sincere.

“Happy to be here,” he lied as he shook Dye-job’s hand before dropping into a seat next to a stern looking woman who was flipping through a heavily annotated copy of the previous dead Accords, adding more of her own notes as she went along. She spared him half a second to glance over and nod a greeting before turning back to her work. That worked just fine for him. For the time being Tony was content to settle back in his chair and watch the room, studying the people who were about to help decide his future. A few minutes passed before the moderator, who was a surly looking guy – and wasn’t that going to be a barrel of laughs – called for their attention. 

“Our last two delegates were delayed in their departure, but have just arrived on site so we will begin shortly,” he said.

Tony felt his stomach clench as he realised just what that meant. It took all of his will power not to stare at the door, counting the seconds until he heard an all too familiar tread, steady and purposeful as ever. 

“Moderator, I apologise for our tardiness. Thank you for waiting.” It was the King himself who greeted the room as he stepped into the room and shook the moderator’s hand with the poise of a leader and the strength of a warrior. “Mr. Stark, it is good to see you again.”

He offered his hand, leaving Tony little choice but to stand and face him, accepting the offered hand in a firm shake. Immediately and against his will, his eyes drift over T’Challa’s shoulder. Seeing Steve there, standing less than four feet from him in the flesh, for a second Tony forgot how to breathe, his hand freezing mid shake. Steve looked about as terrible as Tony felt, exhaustion evident in the pinched corners of his eyes, and if that sent a surge of vindication through him along with the mix of everything else that he was feeling, well, Tony wasn’t going to examine it too closely. 

“Gentlemen, Ladies, if you would take your seats? I’d like to call this session to order,” the moderator announced, and one by one people shuffled to their seats. T’Challa ended up to the right of the moderator, Steve ended up right across from him so Tony had little choice but to either keep his eyes on his tablet or stare intently at whoever was speaking to avoid looking at Steve. He definitely chose door number one, especially for the first god-only-knew-how-many minutes while the committee members went over procedure and legislations and mind-numbing legalities. Fingers itching for something to do, he tapped away quietly at the screen, paying just enough attention to track the conversation and to also piece together that even in the first version of the Accords there had been disagreement and dissent inside the UN. 

“Mr. Moderator, is all this really necessary right now?” Toupee asked, frustrated. “These are logistics about implementation that can be sorted out at a later date. Logistics, I might add, which are meaningless if we do not actually reach an agreement in the first place.”

That was enough to grab Tony’s attention. So, the preamble was over and they were actually going to get started. He gave it five minutes before everything went to hell.

 “Very well,” the moderator agreed, steering the discussion back on track. “It is the opinion of this committee that the previous iteration of the Resolutions known as the Sokovia Agreement did not see success, in part because of the divisive effect that it had on the Party known as the Avengers, for whom the Resolution had the greatest operational impact. To that end, and in light of recent... events... we have invited Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers to join in this discussion in hopes that we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement.” The moderator shuffled some pages and glanced at his notes. “Captain Rogers, given your previous misgivings with the Accords, the floor invites you now to speak.”

All eyes turned to Steve, Tony’s included. Steve’s chin was rested against his hand, mouth hidden behind his fingers. A brief moment of silence settled as Steve folded his arms over his chest.

“I want amnesty for my team,” he said.

“You can’t be ser --” Toupee started to object before Steve cut him off.

“I can be. You can’t honestly expect me to start negotiations on agreements that affect my team without guaranteeing that you’re not going to just lock them back up the moment they come forward to sign. Everything they did, they did because I told them to. They were just following orders.”

“Captain Rogers, you and I both know that soldiers who are ‘just following orders’ from their commanding officers are still subject to the legal consequences of their actions,” Toupee explained, his patronising tone enough that even Tony was feeling close to wanting to push back.

“Besides,” Toupee continued, “what kind of precedent would that set for the future agreements? That we can allow people who are meant to be bound by these Accords to break them without consequence?”

From across the table Tony could see the subtle shift as the tension settled in Steve’s shoulders. While the rest of the room was oblivious, Tony recognised the signs of Steve very quickly approaching a snapping point. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to say anything. This was Steve’s problem to sort out. Steve’s expression shifted to one of righteous indignation, a sentiment that Tony had come to recognise all too well in his time working with Steve. Steve opened his mouth to speak -- bite back, more likely -- when beside Tony the sharp-suited woman cut in.

“Technically they weren’t bound by the agreements,” she said, setting down her pen and sitting back in her chair. “We were in the midst of signing the agreements, but they were never completed. Besides which, even signed, they were never ratified and therefore never technically entered into force. They weren’t legally binding, so Captain Rogers and his crew never broke the agreements. And therefore were wrongfully imprisoned.”

Tony turned in his seat to stare at Sharp Suit, who had levelled her hard gaze at Toupee, while Toupee’s face was quickly turning an interesting shade of red. From the corner of his eye Tony registered the shock on Steve’s face at her words and the implicit support for him, but Toupee was having none of it.

“They are still fugitives,” he spat. “They fled before due process.”

“Because they never should have been down there in the first place,” Steve snapped, regaining his momentum. “You had no grounds to arrest them, nothing to charge them with and you locked them up in the bottom of the ocean.”

“So you admit to breaking them out,” Toupee sneered and Steve shook his head.

“I don’t,” Steve said smoothly. “And last I heard, there was no evidence that indicated how they might have escaped.”

In a moment of weakness Tony had made sure of that. But Steve didn’t have to know that.

“That’s my starting point,” Steve continued. “I want amnesty for Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Scott Lang, and James Barnes.”

“Excuse me?” Tony spoke up before he could even think about what he was saying. “James Barnes? You really think anyone is going to agree to amnesty for the Winter Soldier?” Across the table, Steve’s expression hardened into the kind of intense and unyielding resolve that usually meant that he was half a second from raking someone over the coals. Or punching them in face.

Unwilling to back down, Tony met it with one of his own, equal in stubborn disbelief. He’d stolen glances at Steve since the meeting started, sideways and inconspicuous, but now for the first time they stared at each other dead on, unmoving. In an instant he was back on the helicarrier on that first day, back at the base at home, back in Siberia, the rift between them a gaping chasm.

“Yes, Bucky, too,” Steve insisted, unwavering. “He had nothing to do with Vienna. All he did was try and stop Zemo, just like the rest.” A hot anger curled itself up deep in Tony’s stomach, his thumb anxiously tapping against the table.

“And what about everything else, hm?” Tony asked, voice strained. “So he didn’t have anything to do with Vienna, what about everything else the Winter Soldier is responsible for? You want us to just forget all of that too?”

“Damnit, Tony that was HYDRA’s work and you know it,” Steve snapped. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“He still pulled the trigger,” Tony spat. “And you just want to let him walk away scot free. Your judgement is clouded on this.”

“Oh, and like yours isn’t?” Steve’s words did nothing but fuel the rage fire, the rest of the room forgotten.

“The issue of whether or not James Barnes can be considered criminally responsible for his actions as the Winter Soldier is a separate issue that can and should be debated at a later time,” Sharp Suit interrupted, pulling Tony’s attention back to the rest of the meeting.

“At a later time. You’re serious,” Tony said in flat disbelief.

“Yes,” she said, unfazed. “We already have proof that James Barnes was not responsible for the attack in Vienna. With that information in mind I move that we agree to table discussion of Captain Rogers’ request for another day and move forward. Captain, surely you understand that amnesty can not be granted on the spot by us. This committee will agree to investigate your request and in the meantime I suggest that we move forward with the agenda working under the assumption Captain Rogers’ conditions are met. Otherwise,” she cut Tony off before he could object “if we stop every time we hit a wall like this we'll take a year before we have even a draft of a framework in place. And frankly, we cannot afford that kind of time.”

“Fine,” Steve agreed, clearly unhappy about it, and great. Now Tony had no choice but to agree otherwise he'd look like the asshole here.

“Fine. But we're not done with this,” Tony huffed, throwing himself back into his chair. Who the hell did Steve think he was, agreeing to the meetings only to waltz in here and demand amnesty for the Winter fucking Soldier, for the man who’d killed his mother. Tony had half a mind to walk out of the room right then and there, kept only from actually doing it by sheer damn stubbornness. And maybe a little bit the fact that he didn’t want to deal with Rhodey’s disappointed face. It didn’t stop him from shifting restlessly as the discussion shifted back to the subject at hand, or from letting his mind wander when Sour Face spent more than thirty damn minutes rehashing what should have been the Coles notes version of the previous Accords.

“-- And I’m still not willing to give up autonomy of the Avengers to a committee,” Steve insisted as Sour Face tried to reiterate the fact that the whole damn point of the Accords was oversight.

“You know the last time I worked for an agency that provided oversight, it turned out to be HYDRA. You can’t ever make the guarantee something like that won’t happen again. And even if it didn’t, you want us to be subject to the whims of people with agendas.”

“And you’re saying you don’t have an agenda, is that it, Captain Rogers?” Sour Face sneered.

“My agenda is protecting people. Keeping them safe. It always has been.”

“Yeah and look how well that’s been working out for us,” Tony interjected, falling into the trap of rehashing the same argument that caused this mess in the first place. “We’re reckless, we’re careless, maybe we are trying to help people but we never stop to question how, or at what cost. You’re so blindly devoted to your cause you don’t stop to consider that maybe, sometimes you're wrong. This isn’t some back alley fight against a bunch of bullies.”

“I make the best choice I can, with the information I have,” Steve snapped back, fists clenched. “I make a choice, and I have to live with the consequences.”

“Yeah, except you’re not the only one who has to live with them are you?” Despite the other delegates still sitting in the room Tony was pretty sure they weren’t really talking about the Accords any more. Not with the way Steve’s face looked so pained at his words, and not with the bitter satisfaction that Tony felt at witnessing it.

“There may be another way.” T’Challa spoke up for the first time since taking his seat at the meeting. The moderator, who was beginning to look a little pale in the face, seemed more than a little relieved as he motioned for T’Challa to continue speaking. “Thank you. Captain Rogers, I understand your reluctance to forfeit decisive control to a governing organisation, especially given that we can all agree there is a sad history of non-intervention at key moments of need. But you are a smart man, a strategist, you must understand the difficulty in allowing you to operate in a way that violates the sovereignty and autonomy of other nations.”

Steve didn’t make any movement or sign of agreeing, but he also didn’t deny the truth to what T’Challa said. “However, I also believe there is not a single person in this room who will deny that on more than one occasion, that we have been saved from threats too big to contain by conventional means by the very people we seek to strangle. I therefore propose that the council examine the possibility of allowing the Avengers to continue operating as a cohesive unit, under their own control but that they not be allowed to operate inside sovereign borders without leave from those countries.”

“You want us to ask permission before we do anything,” Steve said flatly, less than impressed by this proposition. “You’ll tie our hands up in bureaucracy and we won’t be able to actually do anything, but you’ll call it autonomy.” He shook his head. “Not going to happen.”

Of course not, because Steve was the single most bullheaded person Tony had ever met. But T’Challa wasn’t dissuaded.

“That is not what I am saying at all, Captain,” T’Challa pressed forward, somehow catching Steve’s momentum in his protests and turning it. “What I am suggesting is more open lines of communication. What I am suggesting is that as you move out to attack your target you share your information with local authorities. Give them the opportunity to work with you to protect their people.”

“And if they say no?” Steve asked skeptically.

“Then, I would hope that you would respect that choice and grant them the same autonomy that you yourself demand.”

At that point the moderator stepped in and called on the other delegates to respond to the proposition and Tony tuned back out. It wasn’t a bad plan, leastwise not as a starting point, though Tony would be reluctant to admit it aloud, mostly out of spite. Steve was conspicuously quiet and there was a small, vindictive part of Tony that was utterly delighted over the fact that Steve was so clearly unhappy. He never looked back over at Steve while the meeting progressed into ideas of communication lines, time-frame for action, or responsibility to protect, but periodically he felt Steve's eyes bore holes into him. Eventually the moderator called for a recess and thank god for that -- the room had become stifling and as the hours had ticked on it had become increasingly difficult to not engage in whatever staring, pissing contest Steve was trying to pull him into. One by one the delegates filtered out of the room and Tony was hot on their heels, waylaid only when Sharp Suit asked to confirm his contact information to send the minutes and the first proposed draft to. Just as he was about to slip out of the room he felt a strong hand tug at his arm and a low voice call for his attention.

“Tony, can I have a word?” Steve asked, the very epitome of polite and professional. Sharp Suit took her leave, shutting the door to the meeting room behind her and leaving Tony little choice but to turn and face Steve head on. Just the two of them now, all polite pretenses dropped, and it was all hard glares and angry expressions.

“Are you going to cause any trouble over the amnesty?” Steve asked cutting right to the point.

“I might,” Tony said without hesitation. “For the others, no. For Barnes, I just might.” Steve took it about as well as Tony had expected, his expression darkening.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. He doesn’t have anything to with Vienna or the Accords. Leave him out of this. Because so help me Tony, I am not backing down on this.” As their voices raised the distance between them lessened until they were crowded into each other’s spaces.

“Yeah, figured that out when you sided with him. When you fucking lied to me,” Tony sneered. Lies of omission still counted, especially when that omission was a bombshell. “I get that you don’t give a damn about me, whatever. But I am not going to let you jeopardize this agreement a second time, and definitely not because of him.” Steve’s face twisted into some terrible mixture of hurt, anger and disbelief.

“Is that what this is about?” Steve spoke low and harsh, slamming his hand against the wall by Tony’s head and leaning towards him. “That this has been a damn cakewalk? That I don’t _care_ about you?” There was an intensity radiating off of Steve now and Tony swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of just how little space there was between them. Steve laughed, a short, hollow sound and Tony could feel the puff of air against his face. But Tony was never one to leave well enough alone.

“I think you’ve made it pretty damn clear how much you don’t care,” Tony responded coldly, refusing to be the one the broke eye contact first. For a moment the very air between them was still, a beat that stretched on for an eternity. And then in the next there was no space between them, Steve’s mouth was against his, kissing him hard and fierce. Caught by surprise Tony grabbed onto Steve’s arms and gasped, lips parting slightly. Steve took the opening, deepening the kiss, pressing into Tony’s mouth. For a split second, Tony forgot everything. He forgot about the anger, the fear, he forgot about the empty base. He forgot about how Steve had left, because Steve was here right now, pressing up against him and kissing him like both their lives depended on it. And then it ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving Tony breathless and stunned.

“You don’t know a damn thing about how I feel,” Steve growled softly. “And you don’t get to judge me. Everything I did, everything that I gave up, you would have done exactly the same thing if it were Rhodey.”

Steve punching him in the gut probably would have hurt less and by the time Tony tried to speak the door beside him had been flung open and Steve was long gone.

 

* * *

 

It was a long flight back to Wakanda, of which Steve spent the entirety in his seat, hunched over himself and staring out the window, feeling for all the world like he was five foot nothing and vulnerable again. T’Challa, to his credit, didn’t pry, said nothing at all until they landed. They both stepped off the plane and Steve turned to bolt but T’Challa caught his arm.

“Come with me,” he said, and Steve followed without a word. T’Challa led them to the back side of the compound, to a wide, open training room, which Steve had only visited a time or two before. In the corner lay a case. Steve watched carefully as T’Challa pulled out his suit and put it on before turning to face him. Taking a fighting stance, he held out his hand and motioned for Steve to come at him. Steve quickly shed his jacket and took a stance of his own, gratitude sweeping through him. Not only could he burn through some of the anger and unease sparring, but the suit meant that he wasn’t going to have to hold back to any degree.

He wasted no time surging forward, throwing a fast punch which T’Challa immediately deflected. Steve stepped past, using the deflected momentum to turn himself around and respond with a hard kick, catching T’Challa in the hip. He grunted at the impact and took a step back before dropping to the ground and twisting himself to sweep Steve’s legs out from underneath him. Steve landed on his back, arms catching himself and a moment later he was flipping back up to his feet and surging forward with a flurry of blows that T’Challa matched step for step. How long they continued like that, Steve wasn’t sure. Honestly, he didn’t care. His mind was blank, freed from thinking about anything other than attack, deflect, defend, repeat, until eventually by silent mutual agreement they both stepped back and took a breath.

“So, that good, huh?” Sam commented from over by the door, having slipped in at some point during their match. T’Challa pulled off his helmet and Steve was pleased to see that he wasn’t the only one who’d worked up a sweat.

“For a first meeting there was a surprising amount of progress that was made. But it was not without difficulties,” T’Challa answered, wiping his forehead. “Thank you for the match, Steve. I look forward to the next one.” Steve nodded gratefully and T’Challa clapped his shoulder on the way out.

“You feeling any better now?” Sam asked, giving Steve a quick once over.

“No. I guess. Maybe?” Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I should be able to get you a pardon. You and the others. They’ll wipe the record clean, you won’t be a fugitive. You should be able to make it home for your ma’s birthday. I hope.”

Sam smiled at him, warm and grateful, and at least that was something good that came from this mess, Steve thought.

“But that’s where the good news ends, I take it.”

Steve chuckled bitterly. “You could say that,” he huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Tony doesn’t even want want to think about Bucky. He flat out refused to consider Bucky in the amnesty agreement, which I’m not willing to accept.”

Sam snorted in reply. “Stark has to realise that’s a sticking point. After everything you did to find Barnes and keep him safe.”

“Tony does realise that but… hell Sam, I understand why he’s angry about that. I really do. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m going not going to let him or anyone else burn Buck for what HYDRA did. I just won’t.”

“Hey, man,” Sam said gently. “I get that.” Steve turned on his heel and made his way out of the training room, back through the winding corridors to the wing where their rooms were with Sam following beside to keep an eye on him. Steve was silently grateful for the company even in his bitter mood.

"I knew that seeing him wasn't going to be easy..." Steve admitted once he was back inside the guest rooms he'd settled in. "I wasn't ready for just how not-easy it was."

There wasn't a response anyone could give him to that chain of thought, nothing to make it easier. A few minutes later Sam had taken his leave with a kind 'if you need anything I'm just across the hall' before leaving Steve to catch his breath and clean up after the trip. And if, later, Sam had tracked him down to check in and found him back in medical standing next to Bucky's chamber, staring at a cell phone in his hand, shoulders shaking... Well, Sam was discrete enough to step out quietly and give Steve the space he needed.

==

It was nearly a day and a half in self imposed isolation before Steve re-engaged and even then it was mostly because Wanda had come looking for him to check in and to let him know that Natasha had returned, but planned to be in Wakanda only briefly. Truthfully, it was a welcome distraction. The hours and days since he’d returned from Geneva dragged out, each one feeling like an eternity. Every time he closed his eyes he was greeted with Tony’s livid expression, or the feeling of Tony’s lips under his, or Tony gasping for breath with Steve’s shield sticking out from the armour.

“Stop hiding inside your head,” Wanda had told him when she’d found him wandering outside. It was the same kind of thing that he would have said to her, but it didn’t make it any easier to actually do. He was back to being unable to do anything.

Having met with them once, the committee would continue to meet now without them, weighing their inputs revisiting the agreements until they had developed a draft that Steve and Tony would be asked to review. It made sense, after seeing what they’d been like the first time around. Rationally Steve recognised that they wouldn’t get a damn thing done with both he and Tony there all of the time, and sure, he could still dig his heels in and refuse to sign if he didn’t like what was being presented, but for the time being he was useless, trapped, with nothing to do but dwell and ruminate. So when Wanda had showed up to pull him out of himself and bring him to Natasha he’d gone willingingly.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you,” she said as they made their way back to the war room -- meeting room -- Steve corrected himself.

“Thank me? For what?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Sam told me that you are pushing for amnesty for me. For us. That when everything settles we may be free to go, no longer fugitives. So thank you, for continuing to fight for us.”

“We’re a team, Wanda. That’s what we do,” he reminded her. “I’m sure as hell not going to abandon you now. Any of you. That’s a promise. You deserve to have your names cleared, and I’m damn lucky to have you fighting with me.” She simply nodded in response but Steve understood. She’d spent so long on her own, just she and Pietro, and then losing him… she’d adjusted amazingly well to being part of the team but there were days it still seemed that she was almost surprised to be reminded that she actually had a team, people to count on and catch her.

Natasha smiled at them as they entered the room and took a couple of seats. “This isn’t a formal meeting, but I needed to catch you all up to speed,” Natasha said without preamble.

“You have news?” Steve sat up straighter, desperate for something positive.

“Not the kind of news you’re hoping for,” she said apologetically. “Ayo and her team are following leads with a ruthless efficiency --” the corner of T’Challa’s mouth quirked up in a proud smile, “--and while they haven’t yet tracked down the book, they’re making progress. But meanwhile I’ve been following down a few other... rumours.”

“What kind of rumours?” Steve asked, his stomach sinking.

“Whispers, more than anything, but none of it is good. HYDRA isn’t as scattered as we thought. Or hoped.”

“We knew that. We took a lot down but we knew they’d scatter to the hills and try and regroup,” Steve pointed out. Natasha shook her head gently.

“Not like this. It’s just rumours, I can’t say for sure yet but my sources are telling me that the heads are growing back faster and stronger. There’s at least one cell that seems to be working towards something. I don’t know what yet. But some of the old guard... they’re afraid.”

“Are they after Bucky?”

“I don’t know, Steve.” Her own frustration at her lack of intel was bleeding into her voice. “But my guess is probably. We just learned that the Winter Soldier program was a lot bigger than we imagined. The Red Room had more irons in the fire than even I knew.”

Well, shit. As if dealing with the United Nations wasn’t enough, now they still had to deal with this. But Steve sure as hell wasn’t ever going to let them get their hands on Bucky again. He’d raze every base, every burrow, every safe house with his own hands if he had to.

“I’m going with you,” he announced, arms folded over his chest as if daring her to protest. She was having none of it.

“No, you definitely aren’t,” she leveled with him. “You’re staying put here.”

“The hell I am, Natasha,” he spat. “I can be a lot more use out there than I am stuck in here.”

“No one is denying that, Steve,” she huffed. “But you’re a wanted man. You’re a walking target. Someone sees you, and HYDRA is going to see us coming from miles away. Every contact I have will go to ground because no one wants half the world’s intelligence organisations in their backyard. I need you to stay here, help me coordinate from here.” Her argument made sense from a tactical perspective but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Part of being a commander is knowing when to choose your battles,” T’Challa reminded him, drawing only a half-hearted snort of derision.

“I mean it, Steve,” Natasha warned. “I don’t want to catch wind of you stealing off in the the middle of the night and charging head first into something stupid by yourself.”

“When have you ever known me to do that?” he asked dryly. Beside him he felt the tip of Wanda’s finger brush over the back of his hand and he felt the tiniest current of warmth and reassurance dance across his skin. The bitter part of him, the part that wanted to be angry almosted resented her for it. Almost, but not quite.

“The Dora Milaje will return soon and then you will be needed here for Bucky,” Wanda reminded him, and at that Steve deflated a fraction.

“Fine,” he conceded. “But be safe out there, Nat. And let me know when you have something.”

“I will,” she promised. “Take care of Barnes, your team and make sure you’re ready to go if the UN decides to invite you out on date number two.”

Being left standing on the landing pad watching as Natasha took off again, going to chase down his enemies, the people who were still threatening Bucky, burned him something fierce. But as her plane disappeared over the horizon and Steve turned back inside, Sam and Wanda and Clint walked beside him, reminding him that their time was sure as hell going to come.


	3. Chapter 3

It hadn’t been that long since Tony had last been at MIT to deliver the September Foundation Presentation but the visit still felt long overdue. For so many years he’d been so wrapped up in being him and being full of himself he’d never paid much attention to his alma mater, or the cutting edge work that was being done by up and coming young minds. It was a hub of innovation and research and he’d missed out on so many years of being a part of that, and so many years of using his skills and incredible knowledge to actually be a mentor. He was one of the smartest people alive and he’d turned it inward instead of working to inspire.

“I have seriously been missing out, not hanging out here,” he commented as he walked through the lab and saw firsthand some of the projects in progress. “I mean, I knew there was some great work happening here but --” He he paused and took a step back, watching as a girl manipulated a 3D holo projection of a schematic, swearing at it in frustration before she dropped her hands. Tony watched as she stared at it, feeling that beside him Rhodey was watching him as much as he was the student. After a moment she let out a carefully controlled breath and went back to work. At that point Tony casually wandered over to her side. “So, what’s the problem we’re working here?”

The girl startled, more from being pulled out of her zone than from looking over and realising that Tony Stark was standing next to her looking over her work.

“Mr. Stark,” she greeted, glancing at him briefly.

“Tony,” he corrected easily, his fingers twitching to pull apart her schmatic to study it.

“Tony. Simone,” she introduced herself. “I’m having problems with overheating. I’m upping the processing power and it’s shorting out the conductors, which shouldn’t be happening. I’ve triple checked the math,” she launched right into an explanation, shifting to the side so Tony could access her work space. “But the real problem I think is actually in the Assembly code. It’s being... weird. And definitely not doing what it’s supposed to be doing.”

“Low functioning languages come with their own set of quirks and challenges,” Tony chuckled, remembering fondly the long nights he’d spent fighting with the first drafts of Dummy’s code. He looked up briefly to see that Rhodey had made his way over to another station, where it looked like a guy and a girl were in a heated debate over fluid dynamics. His crutches were leaning against the table and he’d settled himself on a stool, grinning brighter than Tony had seen in weeks as he watched the bickering pair. Turning his attention back to the code, Tony cracked his knuckles. “Well, now, let’s see if we can’t make it co-operate.”

The hours passed and both Tony and Rhodey ended up elbow deep in graduate projects, loving every second of it. Tony jumped from station to station, answering questions, untangling problems, and bickering like they were simultaneously first years and life-long friends.

“Hey, I saved your ass on that project,” Tony interrupted, halfway through Rhodey recounting a tale from one of their first classes where they’d met.

“You did,” Rhodey conceded. “But what he won’t tell you is that he needed to save my ass because he somehow managed to blow up half our project when he snuck into the labs after hours, and I had come in there to help him clean up so he wouldn’t get his ass handed to him by the Dean.”

“You never would have abandoned me to the wolves, Honeybear,” Tony said sweetly. Rhodey just rolled his eyes in response.

“I very well might have if I didn’t need you to fix what you broke so I didn’t fail out of my first year.” Rhodey was trying his best to look unimpressed, but it was a lost cause and half a second later they both burst out laughing.

“Alright, enough, enough,” Tony said, trying to regain some control of himself. “Anyway, break time for everyone. Food is here.” The students all looked up in surprised as a couple of guys ladened with bags made their way into the room. Tony directed them over to a cleared counter against the far wall, far away from all of the work being done. “Go, eat. This is your Tony Stark mandated break time. You need food and rest, the lot of you. Trust me, I’ve tried running without either and it ends very badly.” With a chorus of cheers and thank yous, the students all hurried over and dug into the spread.

“Thank you for all your help today Tony,” one said around a mouthful of spring roll. “And for the funding. I mean, shit. Half of us here wouldn’t even be able to be working together if it weren’t for the September Grant.”

“Think nothing of it,” Tony tried brushing them off, the praise and thanks still making him feel uncomfortable. “You just have to promise me that you won’t go repeating my mistakes. And promise me that you’re not going to let anyone strong arm you down a path you don’t wanna be on.”

“Do you ever regret making weapons?” one of the guys piped up, full of genuine curiosity. “I mean, it was US Military contracts right?”

“Yeah, they were,” he said, glancing and Rhodey. “And do I regret them? Yes and no. I mean, no because those contracts ended up funding huge breakthroughs in energy and medical research, so I can’t regret that. What I do regret is letting someone else use me to profit off of those weapons in a less than savory manner. I regret being blind to that. So I stopped, because I realised that Stark Industries had reached a point where we could turn a profit and support those other initiatives without the weapons contracts. And I admit, that decision was also personal as well.”

“So, do you not think that military development is a good cause?” the girl he’d first helped asked.

“That’s not quite the case. I still have a lot of personal investment in the military. I mean hell, It’s hard not to when your best friend is a Lieutenant Colonel. And actually we do still do some dev and R and D for the military, but we do it in things like protective gear, we adapt medical gear for field use, communications. We focus on keeping our people safe and alive rather than blowing stuff up.”

That had been a long, hard conversation one night between he and Rhodey after he’d gotten back. Rhodey had understood why Tony had made the choice he had, but as the liaison between Stark Industries and the military it had left Rhodey trying to field a lot of questions he didn’t have answers to from a lot of unhappy people. Tony had assured him that he wasn’t planning on turning his back on Rhodey, or the military, or the outstanding contracts that he still had, but that there was definitely going to need to be a shift in focus. It hadn’t been a fun night, but by the time the sun rose they were on the same page and Tony had fallen asleep with his head dropped against Rhodey’s shoulder, unwilling to admit that he didn’t really want to be alone just then.

“Well you’ve made some amazing innovations since then,” someone commented. “The BARF is revolutionary, I could hardly believe it, seeing it in action at your presentation.”

“It was pretty self indulgent,” Tony admitted, “but, hey, what’s the point of being a genius and having a multibillion dollar company if you can be indulgent in your work?”

“How _does_ it work?” asked a soft voice. Tony glanced over to the back of the group that had formed and his eyes fell onto a small guy who’d done a pretty good job of hiding all afternoon. Tony was pretty sure that he hadn’t heard the kid say so much as a word before now, which, okay, wasn’t fair. He wanted to make sure that everyone was benefiting from his time.

“That is a pretty damn complicated question with a pretty long answer. It builds on the idea of association and conditioning. But basically, the glasses act as kind of like a VR interface. There’s an implant on them that connected to my hippocampus, and through that it’s able to lock onto a traumatic memory and alter it, and then it project the new memory into real space and allow me -- or whoever -- to process and overcome that memory.”

“So... it re-writes that memory completely?” the boy asked, tilting his head curiously.

“No, not quite.” Tony shook his head. “We’re not talking about overwriting neural pathways, we’re talking about working around them. Kind of like a bypass. The original memory is still there but now there’s a version two-point-oh that is in the forefront. And you get all that feel-good catharsis that comes with finally being able to reconcile something. With the added advantage of the physiological fix in your brain.”

“But would you be able to overwrite those memories entirely?” the guy pressed. “I mean, is it possible?”

Tony looked at him carefully, really looked at him and underneath all the smarts, all the eagerness and the willingness to learn, he thought he saw a glimpse of pain shoved so far down it never saw the light of day. Or maybe he was just projecting, wanting to see a part of himself.

“It’s possible, yeah, of course,” Tony conceded with a shrug. “But it would do a hell of a lot more harm than good. The brain is a complicated thing. Completely overwriting neural pathways like that, there’s no telling the effect that might have on someone. And honestly? Those memories are shitty, yeah. But processing them finally made me realise that they’re formative to who I became. And hey maybe what I became isn’t all good --” here, fortunately, a few of them chuckled kindly, “-- but I can’t take any of that back. The point of this project was to accept the trauma and deal with it positively. Not pretend it never happened.”

Tony couldn’t bring himself to look over at Rhodey but he could feels his friend’s eyes on him, and he knew Rhodey well enough to know that if he glanced over he’d see a swell of pride behind the smile he knew was directed at him. He hadn’t had friends at MIT, not real friends anyway, apart from Rhodey, so it was the Rhodes residence he’d call that night, alone, too drunk to remember what he was doing, yo-yoing between crying his eyes out and swearing in anger.

“Well, I think it’s a pretty amazing breakthrough Tony. It had a lot of potential to help a lot of people. And I know I’m not alone when I say it was really amazing hearing you talk so openly about trauma,” Simone piped up, and a number of the other students nodded. “It’s definitely reminded a lot of us that there are endless way that science and tech can be used for human improvement.”

If Tony were the blushing type he probably would have turned beat red. “Hey now, my ego doesn’t need to be any more inflated than it already is.”

“It really doesn’t,” Rhodey chimed in.

“But really, though, like I said -- all I want is for you guys to chase down your own hare-brained self-indulgent projects. Build what you want because you want to do it.”

“Well, let’s go break some more eggs,” Simone ginned.

The empty cartons were left abandoned. Refueled and re-invigorated, the students clambered back to their projects as Tony and Rhodey made their rounds. It was getting late, and they’d all been working hard, but every one of them was on an inspired roll and Tony was the last person who would be willing to throw off that kind of groove. Leaving Rhodey to debate the merits of carbon fiber polymer, Tony made his way to the other side of the lab where the kid who’d been questioning him before was hunched over his terminal.

“Hey,” Tony said, leaning casually against the table and the kid startled. “I didn’t catch your name before.” The kid looked up anxiously, fingers tapping at the top of the work table.

“Uh... Mark.” He said, consciously making himself sit up straight. “Um, sorry about before. I didn’t mean to suggest…”

“It’s fine,” Tony assured him as the kid tripped over his words. “There is a certain appeal to it. Forgetting things completely, I mean.”

Mark nodded in response. “Yeah, there is. And I’m also just really interested in the intersection between tech and neurology and neuroscience. Like you said, brains are complicated and they don’t always do what they’re supposed to.”

“They’re simultaneously fragile, and incredibly resilient,” Tony agreed.

“Yeah, exactly,” Mark nodded. “I guess your BARF presentation just really struck a chord with me.”

“God, I really have to come up with a better name for it,” Tony muttered, drawing a small laugh from Mark. “Look, tell you what, I’ll send you the briefing notes if you want. It’s obviously not going to be a full how-to guide but it’ll give you a more detailed summary of how it works and a a few more of the technical specs.” Tony pulled out his phone and started tapping away. Not that he didn’t trust MIT’s network, but if was going to be accessing his own servers, he was going to do it over his own security protocols.

“That would be great. Thank you so much,” Mark said, eyes lighting up.

“Don’t worry about it, glad to help. And keep working. There are lot of breakthroughs just waiting to happen.”

As he made his way back to the other side of the lab Simone stopped him again. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen Mark smile all term,” she told him quietly. “Definitely the most I’ve heard him talk. He always keeps to himself, does his own work, rarely asks questions in class. I think you talking to him was good for him.” Privately, Tony agreed.

Later that night, when they’d finally packed up and he and Rhodey were back on the jet headed upstate, Rhodey finally broached the subject they’d been avoiding since Geneva. “All this talk about your parents, talking about moving past it…” Rhodey cleared his throat. “You think maybe it’s time you consider talking about the elephant in the room?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tony said flatly, leaning his head against the window.

“Bullshit, Tony.” Rhodey stared across at him. “You’ve spent every waking moment since you got out of Siberia looking after me. Don’t think I’m not grateful, because I am. But at least some of that is avoidance, Tony.”

“What do you want me to say, hmm? What am I supposed to talk about?” Tony snapped, sitting upright.

“Uh, maybe Steve? Barnes? The fact that Steve’s been hiding one hell of a truth bomb from you since that shit in DC? Hell, the fact that you and Steve damn near killed each other and then you had to make nice with him in Geneva?”

Geneva. That was something that Tony was trying desperately not to think about. Trying and failing to forget the anger in Steve’s eyes, the heat of his body as he pressed Tony against the wall, the ferocity behind the kiss as Steve poured so much emotion that Tony didn’t understand into it. He tried, and failed, to forget that Steve had kissed him, and for one glorious moment his mind was quiet -- everything felt right and perfect until Steve pulled away. Every time Tony closed his eyes he could still feel the ghost of Steve’s lips and hear the growl of those words in his ear. _You don’t know a damn thing about how I feel_. And maybe he didn’t know. Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d totally fucked something up, especially where feelings were concerned. What he did know was that he was constantly pinging between hating Steve with everything that he had and desperately wanting to call him just to hear his voice. Because that was going to go so well.

“Tony?” Rhodey called, pulling him out of the hole in his mind.

“Steve wants amnesty for them all or he won’t even consider signing the accords.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s a smart move on his part, he’s got a bit of leverage since the council really wants him to sign on. And there is reasonable grounds to forgive them,” Rhodey admitted.

“All of them. Including Barnes,” Tony added.

“Excuse me?” Rhodey’s features twisted in confusion like he wasn’t quite sure he believed what Tony was saying. “Even if he wasn’t responsible for the bombings in Vienna, he’s still the damn Winter Soldier.”

“Steve is trying to make a case that Barnes wasn’t responsible for what he did. That it was all HYDRA.”

“He’s going to have a hell of a time proving that.”

“One of the representatives seems to think there’s grounds for consideration.”

“Well shit,” Rhodey said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s messed up.”

Tony was silent for a moment, trying to work through the myriad of feelings that were clawing their way back to the surface after weeks of being shoved down and ignored.

“Even if it’s true,” Tony said carefully, sifting his way through the resentment, “he killed my mom, Rhodey. She was innocent.”

Hours later, after they’d landed, after the mood had lifted and they’d settled in, after they’d talked about how great the day had been and laughed until their sides were sore while reminiscing about the stupid shit they got up to in their early days, Tony stood alone staring out his window across the yard of the compound. In his head Steve’s words played on repeat over and over -- _Everything I’ve done, you would have done the same for Rhodes_ He thought about it, about losing Rhodey, thinking him dead only to find him with HYDRA, to have Rhodey not ever recognise him after everything they’d gone through, the lengths he would go to in order to keep Rhodey safe. In the quiet of his room, when it was just him and the dark night as his witness he quietly admitted to himself that if nothing else, Steve might have been right about that.

==

The next morning Tony stumbled out to the kitchen, bleary eyed after what was frankly a terrible night’s sleep. He’d spent more time tossing and turning, and when he did eventually nod off he had been plagued with dreams about Steve smiling and kissing him, and nightmares of Steve staring up at him with cold dead eyes. He didn’t question it when someone pressed a cup of fresh coffee into his hands and only after he’d downed the first few swallows did he open his eyes enough to see Natasha halfway through cooking breakfast, while Rhodey sat flipping through the news on his tablet.

“I thought you were somewhere around the world chasing leads or stabbing bad guys or doing whatever scary stuff you do when we’re not looking,” Tony commented, voice rough with sleep as he stumbled over to the coffee pot to top off his mug.

“I was. I am, still, but I was in the neighbourhood so I decided to stop in and check in on you. And catch you up to speed.”

Great. News. It was way too early to process news. Well, too soon after he’d woken up at least, and that made it too early in his books, he revised, glancing over at the stove clock and realising that it was after 11. In his defence, he and Rhodey had arrived back late and stayed up half the night.

“I’m following a HYDRA lead,” Natasha told him as she dropped a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. “Steve already knows.”

Tony swallowed the bitter feeling in his throat and glared up at her. “Still playing both sides. Does that ever get old for you?”

“I don’t know, does your arrogant stubbornness ever get old for you?” she threw back. “Don’t start with me, Tony. If HYDRA is regrouping to to try something, then it’s bigger than both you and Steve.” It didn’t make him feel any better, knowing that she could pass so easily back and forth between the two of them -- and was doing so -- that somehow she’d manage to stay on both of their good sides. And the fact that she knew where Steve was. Oh, he knew where Steve was, too, or at least he had a strong suspicion. There were only a few things that really made sense, only a few places where they could all stay safe and hidden, and arriving to Geneva with the Wakandan delegation had all but confirmed it. But still, she _knew_ where Steve was. Tony rolled his eyes, hiding the sting he felt and ignoring the fact that she could see right through it.

“So what’s HYDRA up to, then, that’s got you concerned?” he asked instead.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “and that’s what’s got me concerned. It’s whispers and rumours, mostly that HYDRA seems to be regrouping. But if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say they want their asset back.”

“You mean Barnes,” Rhodey said and Natasha nodded.

“Zemo proved that there are still people alive who were a part of the Winter Soldier project, and we know they were never able to recreate anything like Barnes. And the ground work and the conditioning for Barnes is already there. He’s too valuable for HYDRA not to try and take back.”

Some vicious part of Tony was inclined to say good riddance, let them have him, but the rational part of him recognised that that would only end badly for them. The Winter Soldier was too valuable an asset. After all, the only target he’d ever failed to eliminate was Steve. And Steve... there was no length Steve wouldn’t go to in order to pull Barnes back from HYDRA. He’d end up getting himself killed if that’s what it took. The thought made him shiver.

“You know we can’t let that happen,” Natasha said.

“But Barnes is out of reach for now,” Tony said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, he is,” Natasha responded with only the briefest hesitation.

“Then I don’t know what you expect to do. You can’t just wipe out all of HYDRA in a weekend. They’re sneaky bastards who hide in plain sight, always the unassuming ones.”

“No, we can’t,” she agreed. “But we can find out who’s behind this particular push, and eliminate the last traces of the Winter Soldier Project. All the records, all the notes, everything.”

“Well, good luck with that.” He pushed his empty plate away and rose to his feet. Natasha opened her mouth to say something, probably to call him out but closed it a second later. Tony doubted that he’d heard the last of this particular conversation, but Natasha was going to play the long game, choose her battles with him. She was frustratingly good at it, and he wasn’t going to hang around to see if she change her mind. Without looking back he stalked out of the kitchen but as he left he caught Rhodey’s quiet defence of him.

“He’s not doing okay. And Geneva was hard on him.”

“I know,” Natasha responded, the understanding and concern clear in her voice. “Steve’s not much better off.”

Tony didn’t stick around to hear her say any more about Steve, or to find out what Rhodey had to say in response. A part of him wanted to, desperate for news about Steve, but he just couldn’t deal with it.

Setting up a workshop at the base turned out to have been one of the best decisions he made when designing the retrofit for the space. At the time he’d waffled about it, he wasn’t planning on spending all that much time up here so what was the point? The space could be put to better use. But in the end he’d justified it by telling himself that it would be easier to make and repair gear on site rather than flying it back and forth. That’s what he told himself. In hindsight, he’d realised that it was just another sign of his unwillingness to let go. Times like this, though, he was grateful to his stubborn, self-indulgent past self because at least now he had a place to retreat to when he was just done. The plan was to lose himself for a few hours in the work, but like a lot of his plans recently, it very quickly went to shit.

He opened a project file to work on some designs only to find himself distracted a few minutes later, his mind wandering back to what Natasha had said. There was a part of him that felt a twisted sense of satisfaction that Steve apparently wasn’t doing well either, but he couldn’t even hold onto that for long without feeling the gnawing guilt that followed. Instead, he tried to just not think about Steve at all. Which worked for all of two minutes before Steve came flooding back into his head. It was Steve laughing and smiling, Steve fighting, Steve leading them all, looking out for them all. It was finding Steve sitting up in the middle of the night staring out the window unmoving, it was Steve’s grateful look as Tony pressed a cup of coffee into his hand and distracted him with babble about his projects. It was the way Steve’s face lit up every time Tony had shown up at the base unannounced. It was the way Steve looked at him when he’d said ‘he’s my friend,’ as if Tony hadn’t been, was it any damn wonder he’d assumed Steve hadn’t cared? But then, over and over again in his mind on loop that he couldn’t break was Steve pressed against him, Steve growling in his ear, _you have no idea how I feel, you have no idea how I feel, you have no --_

He yelled in frustration, in anger, as he grabbed a screwdriver and threw it across the shop, feeling hot tears prickle at his eyes. Fuck Steve. Fuck Steve and his caring. Of course Tony had no idea how Steve was feeling because Steve hadn’t ever said a damn thing to him, hadn’t even made a hint about it before kissing him. Rationally, he knew it was because he’d been with Pepper and Steve had obviously respected that. Pepper, who he’d tried so hard to hang on to even when he knew it wasn’t a good a fit. He’d been so afraid to lose her he’d started dragging her down with him. She’d been the one to say that enough was enough, that if she didn’t walk away they’d lose everything, including their friendship. It had almost happened before, when he was dying, and she wasn’t going to risk it happening again. Brave, beautiful, perfect Pepper. She’d always been the stronger one. Tony was the destructive one, he was the one people had to walk away from. First Pepper, then Steve -- Tony was the common denominator here.

His chest constricted, and for a moment he felt as though he couldn’t breath. Before he realised what he was doing, and before he could stop himself, he’d patched his phone into the terminal and was dialing. It only rang twice before it was picked up at the other end.

“Tony? Is everything alright?” Pepper asked, her voice concerned.

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a shaky breath. “I just… needed to hear your voice. Sorry, if that’s you know, weird or whatever. I should probably just --”

“It’s fine,” she said easily. “I have a few minutes to talk.”

He didn’t tell her anything, didn’t unload everything that he was feeling on her, not today. Instead he sat back and listened as she talked, telling him about shareholder meetings, the new R&D reports she’d be sending him, this amazing new restaurant she’d found that they’d have to visit the next time he was in the city, how the new assistant they’d hired for the CFO was a dream and she was sure they’d never be able to function without her again. By the time she wound down Tony was breathing easier, his head was clearer and he felt almost okay.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, I have an appointment who just arrived.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Really,” he assured her. “Uh... thanks for picking up, Pep. Really. I needed this.”

“Promise me you’re taking care of yourself,” she said gently.

“As best I can, all things considered.” Even with her appointment coming in she’d refused to hang up until she’d convinced Tony to come back to New York later that week -- partly to meet with R&D and mostly as an excuse to have dinner. By the time the call ended, he felt lighter than he had in days. It still ached sometimes, not having her to come home to, not having her to hold him, but they were in a better place than they’d been in for a long time and he had his best friend back. That counted for something.

Feeling more grounded, Tony was finally prepared to acknowledge to himself what needed to be done. Natasha had said there was a HYDRA threat. HYDRA hadn’t ever actually stopped being a threat, and he couldn’t turn his back now just because stopping HYDRA meant protecting the Winter Soldier by proxy. Settling himself back to his work station, he closed out the project files and pulled up all the data they had, not in the least bit surprised that Natasha had already uploaded what she’d gathered recently to his servers and flagged it for his attention. Grabbing all of the new files, he flicked them open onto his screens, projecting all the information around him.

“Alright,” he said to himself, delving into the information in front of him, “Let’s see if we can’t put some pieces together and figure out what the hell you’re up to this time.”

 

* * *

 

It had been weeks since Geneva, weeks that Steve hadn’t been able to do anything -- or that’s what it had felt like. Sure, there had been meetings, he’d consulted with T’Challa, he’d trained, he’d clung to news and updates but he hadn’t _done_ anything. Not to help Bucky, or the Accords, or fighting HYDRA. Every time he’d tried, he’d been reminded that going into the field was going to do more harm than good. He’d nearly said to hell with it and gone anyway, the only thing keeping him in check was knowing that he couldn’t risk doing anything that would jeopardize the amnesty agreements that he knew by this point were most likely forthcoming. He could do whatever the hell he wanted after his team was cleared.

After the first week, Sam had all but forced him to actually leave and go outside. “You’re not doing Bucky or anyone else any damn good prowling around the halls all the damn time like some kind of sulky teenager.”

“I’m not sulking,” Steve had protested sharply.

“Yeah you are,” Sam responded, unfazed. “And your expression hasn’t shifted from the murderous, wounded puppy look in about three days.”

Steve scoffed in response, trying to ignore the fact that yeah, maybe he had been growing more short tempered.

Sam softened slightly. “It’s not good for you, man. You can’t help them if you’re not taking care of yourself. So we’re going out.”

Steve’s token protest had fallen on deaf ears as Sam had dragged him out to the capital city, Birnin Zana, claiming that there was no way in hell, if he was going to be stuck here, that he wasn’t going to explore. Grudgingly, Steve admitted that it was a good idea. The decades of careful isolation meant that he knew next to nothing about Wakanda, its people, its history and culture, so he should probably learn. Especially since the country had been kind enough to host him. An hour into the morning and he was smiling. By the time they stumbled home at night Steve was actually laughing, trading quips with Sam and for a moment it felt almost normal. He’d fallen into bed, stomach full of incredible food and head full of music and memories, and that night -- for the first time since they’d arrived -- Steve actually slept well and woke feeling rested. But even working the excursions into his admittedly very open schedule, even allowing himself to occasionally have some fun without guilt, the reality of everything else still weighed heavily on him.

In keeping up with the news from the outside world, he’d caught a brief article online from MIT, a follow up to the announcement about the September Foundation grant. The article talked about the visit that Tony and Rhodey had made, and partway through someone had included a photo of Tony mid gesture, explaining something to one of the students.

Steve stared at the photo for far longer than he should have. Tony looked happy, content even, in a way that made Steve’s chest ache both from loss and gratitude that Tony still had something to make him happy, even if Steve still knew him well enough to see the fatigue under the surface. It was great and terrible, seeing Tony moving on with his life and still weighed down by the past all at the same time. They were a world apart but for a moment, it felt like a lot more than that.

Steve was pulled sharply from his thoughts as Wanda burst into the room, breathless, his pencil smudging on the page as he looked up in surprise. “Wanda? What is it?” he asked, sitting up quickly.

“Steve, you have to come quickly.” Her eyes were bright and wide, excited and nervous and Steve was on his feet in a second.

“What happened?” he asked, dropping the book on the seat and hurrying over to her.

“Ayo is back. They found the book.” For a moment he wasn’t sure that he’d heard her right. All this time waiting and they’d finally found it? But Wanda’s eyes were sparkling with excitement and she grabbed his wrist and pulled. “Come on, Steve.”

That was all that it took to snap him out of his daze, and together they took off down the corridors. He kept pace with her and she only let go of him once they’d arrived.

He recognised the tall woman talking to to T’Challa. Everything in her stance and the way she held herself said strength and brilliance. Steve wasted no time in crossing the room to her.

“Ah, Captain,” she greeted with a nod. “I believe we have some much needed news for you.”

“I heard,” he said, pausing in front of her. “And I can’t thank you enough for everything that you’ve done. Truly. You went out of your way, you risked a lot, all of you, and you have my eternal gratitude. I owe you one.”

“You are welcome, Captain. I will remember that.” Her serious expression softened just fractionally before she motioned for him to take a seat. He’d meant every word. They had done so much for him and for Bucky that he owed them one hell of a debt, one he would be happy to repay a thousand times over.

Once everyone had settled back into the meeting room Steve had come to think of like their own War Room, Ayo drew out that small red book that had caused so much trouble and set it on the table. “I apologise for taking so long to deliver this. Finding it was not difficult once we had the information we required. But obtaining that information proved a challenge. The only person who could say for certain where it was is one of the most heavily guarded men in custody.”

“Zemo,” Sam said as though he were spitting out a curse.

“Yes. Zemo. Once we gained access to him, obtaining the information that we needed was simple. It would have been possible to trace his steps and find it without him, eventually. But more efficient to go straight to the source.” Her expression was still and unreadable as she cast her gaze briefly to T’Challa. “We had unfinished business with him.”

“Wait, I thought you were trying to extradite him here,” Sam interjected.

“‘Trying’ being the operative word,” T’Challa sighed. “That is another battle in and of itself. I received word from the UN this morning, I will happily catch you up to speed once we address this issue first.”

“I was also able to persuade Zemo to be more forthcoming about where he found the book in the first place, and where he’d been obtaining his information,” Ayo continued. “Information that I believe will be most relevant to Ms. Romanoff’s search and which I intend to pass on to her.”

Contact with Natasha had been patchy over the past few weeks. She’d been back to the compound in New York to touch base and gather a few things -- she’d told him as much before she’d left -- but since she’d left the base she had been disconcertingly quiet. She’d called a few times just to check in but there hadn’t been much that she was willing to say. And when he’d asked after Tony all she had said was ‘don’t do this to yourself, Steve.’

“She’ll be grateful for the information. Thank you for everything that you’ve done, Ayo. We couldn’t have done any of this without you.” There was no way that Steve could truly explain the depth of his gratitude and could only hope that she understood. Reaching across the table, he picked up the book carefully by the edges, as though afraid it might burn him. “So, now what?”

“Now, we try and reverse engineer the process,” the doctor who’d been watching over Bucky said from the far end of the table. “If that book truly does hold all the secrets to the Winter Soldier, if we can understand exactly what was done to him and how, we stand a chance of being able to reverse it. Or at least render the triggers inert. Wanda is still prepared to help us and her skills will most likely prove invaluable.” Beside Dr. Kirui, Wanda nodded her fierce determination. “But, Captain, I have to warn you. I have no way of knowing how long it will take us to find a solution. And we will not risk trying anything until we are certain that we have a solution that will work. We will not risk further damage to Sgt. Barnes.” The gravity of her implication weighed heavy on Steve. It could take weeks, months, even years to make the kind of breakthrough needed to help Bucky.

“I understand, and I trust you to do what’s best for him. If there’s anything I can do to help...”

“I will let you know,” she promised, rising to her feet and crossing around the table to take the book from him. She took her leave and followed Ayo from the room with Wanda close behind. Steve made to follow before T’Challa stopped him.

“A few minutes of your time, if you would, Steve?”

“Right, yeah of course,” he said, sitting back down.

“I understand your desire to be there, truly I do. But trust me when I say that he really is in the best possible hands,” T’Challa reminded him kindly.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I understand that Ms. Maximoff has taken a liking to our medical and science teams, and they seem to have taken a shine to her. I understand she is a quick study.”

“She’s bright, and she’s eager to learn,” Steve agreed. “She’s a good kid who’s trying to do the right thing.”

“Something you no doubt understand well, if I remember my history correctly.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve tried and failed to look innocent, resulting in a snort of disbelief from Sam beside him and warm laugh from T’Challa.

“None, indeed,” T’Challa responded before his expression turned serious. “Sam, you had asked about Zemo. As I said, dealing with him is proving to be a challenge wrapped up in more red tape than I care to deal with. My father… he was much more efficient at navigating bureaucracy and diplomacy. I do not have his experience nor his patience. It is trying, to say the least.” For a brief moment T’Challa looked weary with the weight of all that he carried on his shoulders now. He carried it well, partly out of necessity for the roles that he filled, but once those were stripped away he was just a man who was still grieving for his country, his king, and his father.

“Austria wants to claim first right to prosecute him,” T’Challa continued. “Which is a reasonable claim considering that the attacks took place on Austrian soil. I wish to extradite him and try him in Wakanda, for my people because he murdered our King. But the United Nations is trying to make a case that he should be made an example of, and they want to bring him before the International Criminal Court and try him on War Crimes.”

“The Hague has been trying to get in on everything they can since they realised HYDRA was still operational,” Steve pointed out.

“Yes, and although Zemo isn’t exactly a high profile head of HYDRA, he is a high profile War Criminal, and if the UN can prosecute him they can at least try and reclaim some measure of control and effectiveness in a series of bad situations that keep cascading out of control. Regardless of what happens, we are still looking at months, possibly years before all the dust surrounding a trial has settled. For now, I must be content that he is locked away, miserable but still alive, and content that my country is healing and still moving forward. And, in the meantime, we have other more pressing matters to worry about.”

“Pressing matters are becoming standing operating procedure,” Sam pointed out.

“You ever miss the quiet old days?” Steve teased to try and stave off the edge of guilt he felt gnawing at his stomach.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have followed you this far Steve. You know that. I don’t have any regrets. Running around with you keeps life interesting,” Sam reminded him. “And hey, there are a lot worse places I could be stuck on a forced vacation. Wakanda is pretty great. And no one back home is as snarky as you are.” His tone turned serious. “I wouldn’t have gotten back in the game and I sure as hell wouldn’t have stayed in it if I wasn’t ready. I knew what I was signing up for. Besides, I have to hang around until Barnes wakes up. Like hell, I’m letting that bastard get the last word in.”

Steve said nothing in response, unable to find the words to express everything he was feeling and also grateful that he didn’t have to.

“I am glad that you are enjoying your time here, because it looks like you will be here for a little while longer. Though, even after you are cleared, know that you are welcome to stay as long as you like, and that you will always be welcomed back as a friend,” T’Challa reminded him.

“When we’re cleared?” Sam asked. “You’re making it sound like it’s a done deal.”

“Not technically, not yet. But in the conversation that I had with Ms. Ferreiro this morning she seemed to suggest that the Accords committee was willing to accept your terms in order to move forward with the negotiations. She also sent out a very preliminary new draft of the Accords that all of you should read.”

“A draft already? They’re moving quick.” Steve said in surprise.

“They are eager to have something passed sooner rather than later. Even just a base, again to show that they have some measure of control over the situation. I have not read it myself but from what Ms. Ferreiro told me, I think it looks promising.”

“She’s the one who made the argument that we weren’t bound by the Accords because they hadn’t been ratified yet, right? And that a case could be made that Bucky shouldn’t be held responsible for his actions,”

“Yes. Maristela Ferreiro is a phenomenal lawyer and there are few who understand international law as well as she. Her expertise in the field is the reason she was asked to sit on this iteration of the council. She is a good ally to have on your side.”

“Well then, we’re lucky to have her.” There weren’t many people in Bucky’s court right then, and he’d take any ally that he could get.

“They are still working out the details, but once all parties have had a chance to review the document we will be meeting to discuss it, I hope within a couple of weeks time.”

Steve would have hoped for sooner, if only because he was sick of waiting, but at least something was finally happening, and soon his team would have their freedom back. He owed T’Challa a debt that could never fully be repaid, for all that the king had done for them and all that he would continue to do. As they wound up their discussion Steve was again struck by how heavy the weight T’Challa was carrying was and he paused.

“Hey, Sam’s been trying to encourage me to get out more, take care of myself and try and relax. It’s pretty good advice,” Steve said casually, refusing to look over at Sam and the smug expression he knew would be sitting on his friend’s face. “Right now I’m pretty sure what I want to do is make a beeline for the med bay, and I’m pretty sure the medical team wouldn’t thank me for my hovering less than an hour into their research. We’ve been touring the city a lot, it’s amazing by the way. But if you have the time, you know, there’s probably a lot that you could show us.” A genuine smile spread across T’Challa’s face and in an instant some of that weight seemed to disappear.

“Sam is a smart man, we would all do well to listen to his advice,” T’Challa acknowledged.

“Yeah, see? Someone acknowledges that I know what I’m talking about,” Sam needled Steve.

“I acknowledge it, I just often promptly ignore it,” Steve said smoothly. Sam rolled his eyes and punched Steve’s arm in response. “So? How about it?”

“I would be happy to show you around,” T’Challa responded as if accepting a challenge, his voice full of pride. “It will be unlike anything that you have ever seen before.”

It would be alright, Steve assured himself as the three of them headed out a half hour later. Bucky would still be there when he got back, the Accords would still be there when he got back, and his dreams would unfortunately still be there when he got back. For now, maybe all three of them could just let go of their concerns, at least for a few hours.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony heard the ping that alerted him to an urgent incoming message, acknowledged it, and then promptly ignored it. Two minutes later it pinged again, and then a third time before he finally dropped what he was doing and pulled up his personal e-mails on screen, cursing himself for programming such a damn insistent alert. The name on the incoming message read Maristela Ferreiro and for half a second Tony frowned.

“Who the hell --?” Sharp Suit. Right. The woman from Geneva who had been sitting beside him. The only delegate in the room who actually seemed qualified to be there, and who he begrudgingly liked despite her arguing in support of Barnes. Attached to the message was a full copy of the initial draft of the new accords but she’d also included a summary to highlight the important bits that were in particular interest to him.

“Knew there was a reason you were my favourite.” He murmured but pushed the message aside. He didn’t quite have it in him to deal with it just then. Besides, right below that was a message from the crew he’d visited at MIT a few weeks back, and that was way more up his alley. The kids had done a short video tour for him, going back through the space so that he could see some of the changes in the projects, and each of them had included a little message to him talking about what progress they’d made, thanking him for consulting. In Mark’s, the boy again thanked Tony for the additional information he’d sent along, saying that it had been really helpful. Simone had commented at the end of her update that Mark really seemed to be throwing himself headfirst into the information Tony sent, and that maybe he seemed happier now. 

The door to the shop slid open and Tony heard the distinctive, careful shuffle of Rhodey moving across the floor. He still needed the crutches a lot of the time, especially since he tired easily but he’d been pushing himself to walk without their aid, a little more each day. His physotherapist was blown away by the progress and Tony was more than happy with the results the braces were providing. Setting down a plate of sandwiches Rhodey pulled up a stool and sat beside Tony.

“Hey since you’re here check this out.” He said, motioning to the display where he had the package from MIT spread out across several monitors. Rhodey grinned bright and wide.

“That’s pretty damn awesome Tones.”

“Yeah, it is. You know we should do stuff like this more often. It’s good, you know?”

“Yeah. I think it is.” Rhodey agreed with a touch of pride for Tony. “Hey look, not to get off topic but there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” The careful hesitation in Rhodey’s voice had Tony’s attention immediately and he swiped all the screens shut give his attention to Rhodey.

“Yeah? What is it?”

Rhodey cleared his throat and pressed on. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now what with the the UN breathing down your neck and the new accords and whatever. But I was wondering.. If you’ve started repairs on the War Machine Armour.”

“Thought you were calling yourself Iron Patriot.” Tony responded on reflex as he felt his chest tighten a little at Rhodey’s words. They’d put all of their attention and energy into just getting Rhodey back on his feet again, this was the first time they’d talked about flying again after the accident. Hell Tony had half assumed that Rhodey wouldn’t ever want to fly again, and the other half of him desperately hoped the same because he never, ever wanted to have to live through something like that again and keeping Rhodey’s feet on the ground was the best way to keep him safe.

“Please. War Machine is way cooler, we both know that.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. Tony barely had a moment to try and compose himself but that moment was all that it took for Rhodey to realise that something wasn’t sitting right. “You haven’t looked at it, have you. You.. oh my God, Tony-” The realisation dawned and Tony looked away, unwilling to look Rhodey in the eye. Rhodey reached out for him but the moment his fingers brushed Tony’s arm, Tony snapped.

“No, I haven’t okay? The armour’s here but I haven’t looked at it. I mean to fix, I have looked at and I’ve been working-” He shook his head, a few quick motions bringing up a new set of project files. “It was stupid to rely on one power supply, so stupid. It was a holdover from the first couple of iterations, back when they were powered from the same reactor that was in my chest. I mean, obviously I gave them their own power supplies pretty damn quick. But never a back up, So when the primary power system get’s knocked off line-” He slammed his hand against the worktable beside the displays, “It was stupid, it was arrogant. It was a massive flaw and I never- It’s fixed now.. I fixed the designs-”

“Tony-”

“Don’t you ‘Tony’ me, alright? Just don’t.” He said sharply, pulling his hand back to manipulate the displays to pulled up a new schematic of the suits. “Here. I’ve integrated a back up power supply. It’s smaller, can’t do as much but it’ll operate the flight stabilisers well enough for a controlled landing.”

“But you haven’t fixed the suit.” Rhodey said, softer this time, treading carefully.

“I wasn’t sure that you wanted me to.” Tony deflected.

“Tony, come on. If our positions were reversed you’d be right back up there. You’d never give up flying.” Rhodey pointed out, nudging Tony as he peered around to look at the new designs.

“And if our positions were reversed you’d be pleading with me to actually stop and think about what I was doing.” Tony snapped back, turning abruptly to face Rhodey, his expression morphing into something equal parts hard and vulnerable at the same time.

“Yes, I definitely would.” Rhodey agreed, meeting his gaze without flinching. “And you’d still do it anyway. You wouldn’t ever give up flying, something like this wouldn’t keep you down, it would only make you fight harder. And you’re damn right, I would be terrified of seeing you go back up there. But you’d do it anyway, and I’d be right there with you.” Tony huffed in response and turned to glance back at his display. “Come on Tony,” Rhodey continued, “I don’t want to walk away from this. I’m not out of the action yet, don’t push me out.”

Just because Rhodey made a valid point didn’t make it any easier to accept and didn’t make Tony any more willing to concede, though there was a voice in the back of his mind that reminded him that Rhodey understood the exact position he’d been in in that moment, fearing that he’d lost his best friend, blaming himself for not having his back when he should. And he knew how much flying meant to Rhodey, scared as he was he couldn’t take that away. Shoulders dropping a little Tony brought up the War Machine Schematics next to the designs for the redundant power system.

“If we’re doing an overhaul anyway we might as well make some upgrades, so here’s what I’m thinking.” He said as he threw the suit up in exploded view. Beside him Rhodey grinned, one of the brightest smiles Tony had seen on him since the accident.

 

“Yeah, now that’s what I’m talking about.”

 

* * *

 

Steve was convinced that Sam was going to kill him in his sleep. Really and truly there was only so far one man’s patience could extend, and in the week and a half since the book had been found Steve was certain that he’d pushed the patience of everyone around him to the absolute limit. He’d done everything in his power to distract himself and fill the time, he’d read over the draft, he went for a run every morning, he was training, drawing, reading lurking around the scientists trying to learn everything that he could and none of it was keeping him from prowling restlessly through every room he was in, through the corridors as night when he couldn’t sleep, his mood deteriorating more and more as each day passed. Sam had been enduring it admirably, giving him space when he needed it and recognising when he needed to not be alone even when Steve himself didn’t alway realise it. Or acknowledge it. But from the way that Sam was cornering him now, arms folded across his chest and staring intently Steve was convinced that after all this time Sam was finally drawing dangerously close to his breaking point.

“What?” Steve asked, more brusquely than he intended. He winced immediately after but Sam didn’t seemed phased.

“You’re coming with me.” Sam demanded, leaving no room for negotiation. Steve winced, and when Sam turned on his heels and stalked away Steve followed without so much as a complaint. Wordlessly Sam led the way through the corridors and eventually out to the terrace where they both ended up any time they needed to think and clear their heads. Steve swallowed hard and glanced around nervously, suspecting that a serious conversation was forthcoming, one that would probably make Sam killing him in his sleep be a preferable fate.

Once outside Steve found there was already a bottle of liquor and two glasses sitting out on the table. Wordlessly, Sam poured them each a measure and pressed one into Steve’s hand. Steve took it without objection and sipped, waiting for Sam to speak, to get to whatever point he angling towards. For a long while Sam was content to stay silent, leaning against the stone rail, gazing out into the night across the ground and over the jungle in the distance. Despite the fact that Steve was feeling a little like he was waiting for the axe to fall, the silence was almost comfortable as they stood side by side in the warm night.

“The meeting is tomorrow.” Sam said at last, and Steve only hummed in acknowledgement. “That means you’re going to see him again. Tony I mean.” That very thought had been weighing on Steve over the past several days, steadily growing heavier the closer he came to departure. Seeing Tony, having to work with him, that was going to be complicated enough, and then Steve had to go and make it even more complicated by being an impulsive ass the last time they’d seen each other. He should apologise for it, for cornering Tony the way he did, for kissing him like that. He hadn’t told Sam about that -- hadn’t told anyone actually -- but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam knew anyway, that Sam suspected that the down turn in Steve’s mood wasn’t entirely because of the lack of news surrounding Bucky.

“Are you ready?” Sam asked pulling him back from the downward spiral that was the line of thinking surrounding Tony.

“I don’t really have a choice do I.” Steve responded flatly, gripping his glass a little tighter.

Sam snorted. “That’s not what I asked is it. I asked if you were ready to to see him again.”

“You know it’s not the first time I’ve seen him since Siberia.” Steve deflected inelegantly.

“I asked if you were ready.” Sam pressed, not allowing himself to be swayed. Steve could feel Sam’s eyes on him, studying him, trying to read everything that Steve was trying and failing to hide. The consequence of letting Sam into his life and of spending the amount of time they had together coupled with Sam’s uncanny ability to understand people was that it became impossible for Steve to hide. He could walk away right now and Sam might let it drop, might let him brood on his own all night like he’d been brooding for days. The option to walk away was there--

“No, I’m not.” --he chose not to take it. “I’m not even close to ready Sam. I can’t- god, every time I think about it, about everything, I just-” His shoulders tightened and the hand that wasn’t holding the glass gripped tighter around the stone wall. “I can’t fucking believe him sometimes you know? And how quickly he was ready to roll over and give up everything we had, everything he worked for. I mean for fuck’s sake he called Wanda a damn weapon. A weapons, Sam. She’s a person, hell she’s a kid not a god damn nuke. But the thing is.. I get it. Or I get where he’s coming from at least. Kind of.” He tossed back the rest of his drink and without prompting Sam poured him another.

“We’ve made mistakes. Some pretty big mistakes. And there’s merit to the accords, I can see that. But not like how they wanted. Not what he was pushing for. And I know I screwed up, I should have told him about his parents, I should have. It was a dick move not to. But I was so scared.” He let out a shaky breath, hunching over a little more almost as if he were trying to make himself smaller. “I’d just found out Bucky was alive and I was already so damn scared over who was after him. SHIELD was in pieces, HYDRA was on the rise, I.. I don’t know, I guess I thought if I found him first, if I could keep him safe..”

“You were afraid Tony might have done something rash.”

“I was right to be worried, wasn’t? I mean he did try and kill Buck.”

“Might have been different if it was his friend who broke the news to him and not some crazy lunatic hell bent on revenge.” Sam pointed out, far more gently than Steve felt he really deserved.

“Yeah, I realised that. Too late as it turn out.” The words came out rough as Steve’s throat felt like it was tightening up. He ducked his head and let out a shaky breath. “Even with all of that.. That whole..feeling like I kind of want to throw up a little, not being ready to see him again after-- well, after last time. I-” Steve swallowed hard, the words trying to stick in his throat. “-I still can’t wait to see him. Even though I know it’s going to be terrible. I know he can’t stand to deal with me, we’re going to fight, I’m going to be angry. For that one second before everything goes to shit and reality sets in, I’ll see him, I’ll be able to see that he’s still okay, that he’s alive and safe. I miss him Sam. We didn’t always see eye to eye, I know. And I made my choice, I stand by it, and I’d do it the same all over again. I did what I had to do to keep Bucky safe and I’m never going to not do that. But I miss him so damn much it hurts. Sometimes I feel like I can’t breath.”

It wasn’t some kind of revelation, but admitting it, saying it all out loud made it all real somehow, like he could no longer like and pretend it wasn’t true. And with that, suddenly the whole weight of the rift that he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying caved in on him. His chest tightened and he strained to breath deeply, feeling for a moment like an asthmatic teen again. His eyes stung with hot tears and a second later his knees buckled and he slid to the ground shaking as he quietly sobbed. Sam dropped down beside him, sitting shoulder pressed to shoulder as Steve drew his knees up to chest and wrapped his arms around them, hiding his face.

He lost track of time then, not knowing or caring how long he’d spent sitting there until there wasn’t a single tear left to be had. By the time he calmed down his whole body felt wrung out and exhausted like he’d gone ten rounds and lost. His breathing evened out and slowly he was able to sit up and realised that Sam was still sitting there.

“God, I’m-”

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence.” Sam cut him off abruptly before the apology was fully formed. “I knew you were hurting man, I didn’t realise just how bad.”

Steve shrugged it off, less than half heartedly. “I let them both down, Sam. Bucky… he’s all the family I have left, everything I had before and losing him when he fell-”

“-was the worst day of your life. Yeah, I know something about that.” Sam finished.

“Yeah. I have him back and I still couldn’t protect him. I told him I would and I let him down. And Tony..” He laughed bitterly, unwilling to express just what he felt for Tony. But he didn’t need to, he’d made how he felt pretty damn clear.

“You didn’t let either of them down Steve.” Sam reminded him, getting only a shrug in response. “Hey, don’t believe me, you can’t change what happened. You said you stood by your decision. Means you did the best you could have done in a shit situation. Best you can do it try and do right by them going forward. And try not to punch Tony in his teeth tomorrow if you can ‘cause I’m pretty sure at this point it’ll cause an international incident.”

That managed to draw something resembling a genuine laugh from Steve and for a second he felt a little lighter. “I’m not going to make any promises.” Steve chuckled, uncurling from himself a little.

“Yeah well, you’re a troublemaker so I don’t know what I expected.”

“Takes one to know one. You stuck around for a reason.” Steve pointed out.

“Somedays I forget what those reasons are.” Sam responded deadpan as he slowly pushed himself to his feet and offer a hand up to Steve.

Now, hours later as Steve was waiting anxiously back in the meeting room in Geneva, the relative calm that he’d felt when he’d said goodnight to Sam as they’d parted ways was all but gone and he was back to wrestling with the knot that was permanently sitting in his stomach. The knot that was only momentarily relieved as Tony blustered into the room on the heels of his escort and was back a second later when reality refused to be ignored. Tony didn’t even look anywhere close to Steve’s direction as he unbuttoned his jacket and took his seat, flashing a painfully fake smile up to the moderator who called the meeting to order a moment later.

Across the table and a few seats down from him Ms. Ferreiro -- whom he recognised as the lawyer who was the brains behind hashing out the finer points of the agreements -- shuffled her notes and cleared her throat.

“First of all, before we begin discussions on the amendments to the accords, this council would like to address the issue of Amnesty for the fugitive Avengers.” At that Steve perked up, his heart skipping a beat. He’d been dead serious about the pardons for his team being a hard line before he was willing to sign on to anything. This was the only leverage that he had to get them their lives and their freedom back. “We the council have made the ruling that given the tenuous state of the previous accords at the time of the incidents in question, they can not be considered legally binding. We therefore will drop all outstanding warrants and actions against these individuals. Congratulations, Captain. Your team is cleared.” She said with a smile.

A feeling of relief ripped through Steve and he smiled over at her and nodded. “Thank you madam councillor. They’ll be happy to hear that.” The relief was pure, but also short lived as the other unresolved issue still hung in the room. “You said my team, under the accords. What about Sergeant James Barnes.”

“That is a more complicated issue, Captain.” She said, apologetic in her professionalism. “Considering that Sergeant Barnes is still listed as missing in action, presumed dead.” Of course. Turned out even with his face plastered on the news after Vienna, being on the run had made it pretty damn hard for Bucky to reclaim his identity.

“You already know that he wasn’t responsible for Vienna, and you just said you said you didn’t have grounds to take my team in under the accords. So why not him?” No one in that room was going to respond well to him losing his temper, but keeping himself calm and and even was going to be difficult if they still planned on trying to hang Bucky.

“Because it’s not just about Vienna. Or the airport.” It was Tony who responded and Steve whipped around to stare at him, unsurprised that the first time Tony chose to acknowledge and speak to him that day it was to pick a fight.

“Oh don’t start-”

“It’s not even about Siberia.” Tony cut him off and leveled a cold, hard stare at him. “You saw what happened, when we brought him in for questioning, didn’t you. We did see the the same wake of destruction right? I mean, I sure remember the gun in my face. He broke out of some pretty damn heavy duty restraints, he smashed his way out of a secure cage, and he damn near tried to kill all of us on his way out of there.”

“That was Zemo and you know it.” Steve spat back.

“Yeah, Zemo because he had the code words. Words Steve, that’s all it took. The right damn words. He’s a menace, he’s a threat, and your judgement is clouded.”

“Right. And you’re completely objective.” Steve responded with dripping sarcasm. But Tony had mentioned the trigger words. Intentionally or not, he’d mentioned them, and referenced the fact that they could make Bucky do all kinds of things outside his control. So maybe, just maybe there was hope that Tony might accept the fact that the death of his parents wasn’t entirely on Bucky. But now wasn’t the time to mention that. Better to tuck that away in the back of his mind and focus on the argument at hand.

“Captain, Mister Stark is correct in stating that the council has concerns about Mister Barnes and whether he constitutes a threat.” Maristela interjected, forcing the conversation back on track before it could devolve into an all out argument. “So we can not in good conscience and out of concern for public safety remove the warrants currently outstanding on him. I’m sorry.”

“What if there was a way to prove he’s not a threat anymore?” Steve asked suddenly. “A way to prove that the conditioning doesn’t have a hold on him anymore? That everything that he did was outside of his control. You said yourself there was grounds to consider him not criminally responsible for his actions, what if we could prove that was a case.”

“Then that would be a different scenario, Captain Rogers. And I think a conversation best suited for another time.” She considered him carefully and then nodded as if having reached a decision. “I will be in touch with you after this meeting. For now, let’s move on an open discussions on the accords. I assume you’ve all read the documents I sent out.”

Across the table Tony opened his mouth to object. Maristela’s eyes flickered over to Tony’s briefly but she pressed on, not giving him the chance to interrupt. Steve himself wasn’t thrilled with the idea of continuing the discussion with Bucky’s fate still hanging, but remembering that right then, as they spoke there was a team of the brightest minds working on making Bucky well, and Natasha was out there trying to gather all the evidence she could to support Bucky’s case, that made it easier for him to accept the victory that he had gained for the rest of the team and wait to bide his time until he was in a better position for the next fight. The best thing that he could do for all of them right now was to make sure that they had the best possible agreement that he could to support them and protect them going forward.

The discussion shifted, but definitely not to an easier subject. The last time, Ross had tried to outright bully them into signing without discussion, partly Steve suspected, in a less than subtle bid to pull the Avengers into his sphere of influence. It might have been the UN pushing for the accords, but as Secretary of State for the United States, bringing the Avengers to heel under UN control was effectively bringing them under Ross’ control -- one of the many reasons for Steve's immediate and vehement objection to the agreement. But on the other hand he'd always been a man of action and sitting around listening to the arguments around him, feeling like no progress was actually being made was its own special kind of hell. This had to be his penance, he thought as the delegate with the weird hair who's name he couldn't remember, adopted the debating strategy of simply yelling his point louder in hopes that it would sway the room. At this rate, Steve was very close to losing it, which wasn't going to end well for anyone. Thank god he was cut off by a women Steve was almost certain was from Austria, who brought the debate back around to more relevant points.

“I stand by my statement.” She said, visible cracks in her calm demeanour. “The Avengers are based in the United States. They're led by a man wearing the United States flag on his chest. I don't care if they're operating ‘independently,’ I don't care what the intentions are, that screams of a specialized American task force. And I for one am not comfortable with that.”

“Okay so where do you suggest we move?” Tony cut in. “‘Cause I can move us, whatever, that’s not a problem. But where are you going to put us, hm? Last I checked there’s only one place in the world that falls outside the jurisdiction of any one Government, and the response time to a crisis from the middle of Antarctica is pretty dismal. So what's your plan?”

“You missing the point Mister Stark.”

“No, I get the point. Really.” He pressed on. “And I get it, America, we're kind of the assholes. But what's your solution?”

“I stop being Captain America.” The words were out of Steve's mouth before he could even think about what he was saying, but the moment the idea was out there he felt an immediate sense of relief, like he'd been just waiting for an excuse and just hadn't realised.

“What?” Both Tony and the Austrian woman said at the same time and Steve felt every pair of eyes in the room turn and fix on him.

“What?” Steve asked, glancing around. “You have a problem with an American Flag at the head of a group that's supposed to be without affiliation? That's supposed to be autonomous? Fine. I'll stop being Captain America. Let us keep the base we have, we put a lot of time and money-” He nodded at Tony, “-into building what we needed. Not just a place to train, but a home. It's a good location. We'll keep the base and it'll just happen to be on American ground. But when we fight, there's none of that.”

“But you're-” The councilman from the US who was a portly little red faced man who Steve had no doubt was chummy with Ross tried to interject but Steve cut him off.

“But I'm what, the Star Spangled Man with a plan?” Steve asked shortly. “Because let me remind you of something the history books like to leave out. I never wanted to be Captain America, I never asked for it. I'm just a kid from Brooklyn who did something really stupid and really dangerous because I didn't want to back from a fight because I didn't like bullies. Project Rebirth wasn't about creating a Captain America, that came after. All the propaganda and the marketing, that came after. And it made sense, honestly. You wouldn't believe how effective war propaganda was both the good and the bad. But at the end of the day, then and now, I'm still that kid from Brooklyn who's just fighting and trying to protect people. I'm just trying to do my job. So if being Captain America is getting in the way of that? You're damn right I'll drop it. It's not being Captain America that gave me the ability to do what I do.”

The American delegate stared at him flabbergasted and in disbelief as if he’d just committed some kind of treason with his words. But Steve head meant every single one of them and he sure as hell planned to dig his heels in and stick to them. “You can’t.” The man sputtered, turning even more red in his face.

“I think you’ll find that I can.” Steve shrugged casually. “If that would help?” He directed the question towards Maristela.

“It would certainly go a long way to helping the image that we’re trying to achieve here. And I am assuming it would be easy enough to change your uniform. You’ll probably have to do something about the design of your shield. Red, white and blue, It’s a much a symbol as you are.”

“I don’t think the shield is going to be a problem.” Steve responded dryly, very pointedly not looking at Tony.

After that the conversation rapidly gained traction. It turned out that once there were no very obvious stars and stripes leading an international response team, the rest of the council became much more amenable to the idea of them holding on to their autonomy. Once they’d agreed on that point, everything else was just details; implementation, communication, reporting -- everything needed for accountability. By the time the meeting was winding to a close Steve almost didn’t totally hate the idea of what they were working towards. Sure, he still wasn’t happy with the extra involvement, the extra steps and the extra bureaucracy that could very well hinder them in a situation where time was critical. But he bargained his team into a position he was at least more comfortable with and where they could govern themselves. All things considered he counted that as a win. But it still wasn’t quite enough, not with one major variable still unaccounted for.

As the representatives filtered out of the room Maristela made her way over and offered her hand. “Thank you for your concession, Captain. That’s going to help tremendously with bringing this process to a speedy conclusion.”

“I hope so. Though truthfully, it wasn’t a hard concession to make.” He admitted, shaking her hand briefly. “But I’m not signing anything, anything at all until I know without a doubt that Bucky is protected.

“I understand your concerns and I share them. I’m also working on a way to address them.” From the corner of his eye Steve saw Tony loitering near by under the guise of talking to one of the representatives, but Steve had no doubt he was listening to them. Fine. Let him. It wouldn’t change anything. “I’ve already been contacted by your colleague, Ms Romanoff who I understand is working to put a case together to defend him, But she would not share any of her information with me until I first spoke with you. She seemed to indicate that you were speaking on behalf of Mister Barnes as sort of… an informal power of attorney as Mister Barnes is, I understand, currently otherwise occupied. Her words were, I believe, ‘If Steve trusts you, Barnes will trust you. And so will I.” The weight of that trust settled on Steve’s shoulders, but it was an easy burden to bare and one he carried with pride.

“Captain Rogers,” She continued, “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I really am the best at what I do. I am a damn good lawyer and I have extensive experience working with cases involving trauma, captivity, actions taken under duress, brainwashing. I want to help your friend, and I have my own reasons for hating HYDRA.” Her eyes flashed briefly with a kind of anger that Steve recognised in himself only too well.

“If you think you can help him.. Thank you.” Steve said sincerity. “But, I really don’t want him to have to go on trial.”

“He shouldn’t have to.” She said quickly. “I’m calling for an independent panel. They’ll listen to the evidence I present, weigh it, and decide if there are grounds for pressing charges. But the reality is, if you can prove that he isn’t a threat and HYDRA doesn’t have a hold on him, they’ll forget it all. The accords are more important. And if this is what it takes to get you on board, they’ll give it to you so long as it’s not liable to blow up in their faces.”

After promises that he’d be in touch once he’d had a chance to talk with Natasha, Maristela took her leave. Barely a beat later and Tony was sliding up next to him, hands in his pockets looking far too casual. It had Steve immediately on edge, and it turned out for good reason too.

“You're not going to let it go are you.” Tony asked bluntly. Steve didn't bother playing dumb or pretending like he didn't know what Tony was talking about because this one, massive thing hanging between them, that was going to be the sticking point.

“No, I'm not.” Steve responded, not giving an inch. “He doesn't deserve to go down for what HYDRA did to him.”

“We're not talking about what HYDRA did we're talking about what he did.”

“What HYDRA made him do that he had no control over. You said it yourself, the words, the conditioning, you know it's not his control.” Steve threw Tony's little slip right back at him, desperate for any leverage, and traction that he could get. The only other thing Steve truly wanted in that moment apart from Bucky's assured safety was for Tony to understand why he was fighting for this and why he wasn't going to let it go, ever.

“So you want to what, absolve him of everything?” The sudden flare of anger might have caught him off guard but this wasn't the first time they'd fought, hell it definitely wasn't the first time they'd fought about Bucky and Steve patience was razor thin.

“I'm not having this argument again Tony.” Steve snapped in weary frustration. “Of course I want that, he's my best friend and he sure as hell didn't deserve any of what he lived through.”

Tony glared at him, eyes alight with fire and voice dripping with barely contained rage. “In case you've forgotten, your ‘best friend’ murdered my parents.”

“Yeah, and Howard's best friend ordered the hit so stop pinning all of this solely on Bucky.” Steve yelled in response, what little patience he had left shattering. He expected Tony to yell in response, expected a barrage of angry, spiteful words flung in his direction and he was braced for it. What he wasn't expecting was Tony's wide eyed surprised and stunned silence which was replace a second later by a flood of confusion.

“What do you mean Howard's best friend ordered the hit?”

“Tony-”

“Don't you ‘Tony’ me. What. Do. You. Mean.”

Steve swallowed thickly, wishing there was some way he could back out of this now. “It was in the data dump. It was a hit.” He said carefully.

“Yeah I know it was a hit, even if I hadn't read that I would have figured it out when I learned, you know, that a fucking assassin killed them. Skip to the part about who ordered it.”

“It was also in the dump..” Steve continued, every word painful on his tongue, “It was buried deep...but Tony you have to believe me I thought you knew.”

“Interestingly enough I'm not a huge fan of digging around in painful memories. I read the report, I know it was HYDRA, I know Dad was growing suspicious of HYDRA in SHIELD, I know now he was working on a variant of the serum. I know all of that.” Tony's voice was shaking at this point and the anger had shifted into something closer to pleading. “Who, Steve?”

Steve knew enough of Tony's history, or the birth of Iron Man and what followed that he knew what he was about to say was going to cut deep and he would have given anything to avoid saying. In an instance a hundred things slid into place all at once, things about Tony, pieces he should have put together, patterns he should have seen, things were swept under the rug and we're lost. It wasn't until this moment where Steve was about to open old wounds that Steve realised those wounds hadn’t healed, that the entire time he'd know Tony, Tony hadn't been okay. He'd probably needed help and never asked for it, never received it and had been quietly bleeding internally. The sudden weight of that realisation was crushing.

“Steve...please.” Tony begged quietly. Steve could see it in his eyes, Tony knew what he was about to say, could feel it down to his core and yet he needed to hear it. When Steve spoke he felt for all the world like an executioner dropping the axe.

“Obadiah Stane was HYDRA.” He said as gently as he could manage.

Steve was endlessly grateful that this point everyone else had beat a hasty retreat and left them alone in the meeting room, because almost instantly Tony crumpled. He barely managed to catch himself on the edge of the table to slow the drop as he hit the floor, knees drawn up and hand pressed tight against his chest. His breath started coming out in short gasps and tears were filling the corner of his eyes. Not knowing what else to do and refusing to stand by and leave Tony like this Steve dropped to the ground beside him and wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder, hoping with everything he had that it was the right decision and that touching him wouldn’t set Tony off. Immediately Tony curled into the embrace and pressed his face into Steve’s chest as he struggled to breath. Steve -- at a loss for what else to do -- resorted to simply rubbing gently circles into Tony’s back, holding Tony in his arms as he shook. All the time they’d spent together, all the time that he thought he’d been getting to know Tony, fighting with him, falling for him, how was it possible that it had taken him until this moment to see how not-okay Tony was. Tony had been so damn busy putting up fronts, trying to be his image and silently trying not to bleed on anyone he’d never asked for help. He was Iron Man, he was a genius, he fought and risked his life the way the all did, that’s all he’d ever known Tony as. He’d never stopped to remember that Tony was a civilian. He was a civilian before Afghanistan and Iron Man was what he had become to survive -- a literal armour to protect the wounds that had never healed.

Hot tears prickled Steve’s eyes as he bent and rested his forehead gently against Tony’s. “God.. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, half to himself. He lost track of time after that, neither of them spoke and he refused to be the one that moved. He’d stay on the floor there all night if that’s what Tony needed. But it wasn’t. The shift in Tony was instant. One second he was limp and curled up, the next he was tensed up and pulling away, on his feet before Steve could stop him. “Tony, wait.” Steve called, but Tony didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything, didn’t acknowledge Steve at all as he stalked out of the room leaving Steve sitting alone on the floor dazed and with a damp patch right on the front of his shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve had blown right past everyone who’d been waiting on the tarmac, radiating hostility. Not even Sam had dared to go after him.

=

It was nearly two days later when Steve finally resurfaced, looking like death warmed over and like he hadn’t slept. As soon as he stepped into Wanda’s line of sight she broke away from her conversation with Clint and wrapped Steve up in tight hug. He sagged against her a little, dropped his head to her shoulder. A second later he felt some of the tension in his mind ease in a way that he couldn’t describe but which probably has something to do with the slight tingle at the back of his neck. Neither of them mentioned it, and after a long moment Steve let out a careful breath and pulled back, feeling slightly more at ease.

“What’s the news here?” he asked before either of them could ask him any prodding questions that he didn’t want to answer.

“Well… about that,” Clint started slowly, glancing over at Wanda. “Wanda was actually just about to go looking for you. She’s got something I think you might want to hear.”

Wanda’s eyes were bright with excitement and drive, a slow smile spreading across her face. “They have a plan for Bucky,” she said.

Steve stared back at her, blinking in disbelief, “They what? Are you serious?” His heart was slamming in his chest as Wanda nodded.

“Yes. They have poured over everything in that book, studied the scans of his brain endlessly, and the team has a theory -- a good working theory, Steve. But they want to speak with you first since you are speaking for him.” Beside her, Clint was also grinning stupidly and Steve snapped out of his daze. Bucky. They could bring Bucky back, take the words out. And if the words were gone they could prove he wasn’t a danger. And if he wasn’t a danger -- 

“-- he can be free,” Steve breathed. Nodding, Wanda grabbed his hand and together the three of them took off towards the medical wing. Sam was already there, deep in conversation with one of the medics. Wanda squeezed Steve’s hand briefly before dropping it and going to join them.

“They’ve been fighting hard for him. Both of them,” Clint said quietly, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the whole medical and science team are really the stars here, but Sam and Wanda? Anything they could do to help, they have. You know, whenever you’re gone Sam has been coming in here to check on him. I caught him in here one night.” Clint’s eyes drifted over to the chamber where Bucky was still lying motionless as the day he went in. “He was standing over there talking to Buck. He knew it wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference, there’s no way that Barnes can hear him. But when I asked him why, he said it’s ‘cause it would make you feel better, knowing someone is looking out for him. And that if there was any chance in hell some small unconscious part of Bucky was somehow aware on some level... He wanted to remind him that he wasn’t alone, and when he woke up again the whole world wouldn’t be different.” 

Steve had never explicitly told Sam that was a personal fear that he still struggled with, but Sam had spent enough time with him, had watched him wake up with a jolt from sleep, gasping for breath and scrambling to check the date before breathing a sigh of relief. 

“I don’t know how the hell you lucked into finding a friend like him, Cap,” Clint continued, “but I’m damn glad you did. And he’s a good guy to have on our side.” Steve nodded his head in agreement. 

“Captain Rogers. It’s good to see you again.” Bucky’s doctor interrupted his thoughts and motioned him over. “I need to catch you up to speed, we’ve made a lot of progress and there are some things that we need to discuss before we can proceed any further. There was a desk off to the side that served as her work station and she gestured for Steve to take a seat, which he did, with Clint, Sam and Wanda lurking off to the side.

“Wanda tells me you’re ready to try something? You have a plan you think might work?” The doctor nodded and flipped open a few screens. The book was open on the desk, covered in sticky notes with her writing all over them and annotations for cross referencing. 

“I do,” she said. “But you need to know a few things first. Number one is that we’re going to need him awake and out of cryo. We cannot do what needs to be done while his brain is in stasis.” Steve nodded his understanding. It made sense, he was prepared for that. 

“The second thing,” she continued, “is that this is a process. There is no switch we can flip to make everything better. It took time to code everything into his brain, it’s going to take time to decode it. And it’s going to be very painful. Mentally, I mean. We will need to stimulate his hippocampus, unbury memories that are locked in there. Memories of HYDRA conditioning him in the first place. It isn’t going to be pleasant for him. But there is no way around it.” Steve had been afraid of something like that, though he’d been hoping desperately that there would be another way.

“How are you going to do this?” he asked, trying to not think about how hard this was going to be on Bucky. 

“We will of course require Sgt. Barnes to consent, but to begin with we will be using a process to stimulate memories and recode them, create new associations and break the connections to the conditioning. My team is capable of doing that ourselves but --” she paused briefly and glanced over at Wanda, “-- Miss Maximoff’s unique abilities will make the process easier. Her ability to manipulate memories and thoughts, to plant visions and suggestions, I think, will help immensely and significantly increase our chances of success while hopefully making the process a little less painful for Sgt. Barnes.” 

Steve’s gut reaction was to say no, to keep Wanda safe, but his second thought was that this wasn’t his choice. It was Wanda’s, and it was Bucky’s. “If they’re both okay with the risks.,” he said with resignation. 

The Doctor smiled kindly and gave Steve’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I promise you that we will look after them and no harm will befall either of them.”

That reassurance carried him as he waited through the long, slow process of unfreezing Bucky and waking him up. The team moved carefully, even though Bucky had been through this process countless times before they still took care, not wanting to cause any shock to his body. Sam, Wanda and Clint all waited with him, standings at his side as he shifted anxiously from foot to foot. The truth was, when Bucky had gone under neither of them had really been sure how long it was going to be for. The truth was that it was only due to Ayo and the Dora Milaje, along with the tireless work of the best medics and scientists, that they were in the position to wake him up so soon. Nothing Steve could say or do would ever come close to repaying what they’d done. 

The chamber slowly opened with a pneumatic hiss. A medic was right there, checking Bucky’s vitals, measuring his heart rate and his breathing. But Bucky wasn’t moving yet. “Give it a minute,” Sam murmured before Steve could let the nerves get the better of him. Sure enough, a moment or two later there was a stir, first a twitch of fingers, followed by the slight shift of his head and then Bucky was slowly opening his eyes. After that, nothing and no one could keep Steve from rushing to Bucky’s side. The disorientation on Bucky’s face shifted to relief the moment that he saw Steve. 

“How long?” Bucky asked, voice rough and a little raw.

“Not long at all,” Steve promised with with the first genuine smile in what felt like forever. “Just a few weeks. You have some amazing people on your side. And you’re still safe.” After that, the medics had politely but forcefully made Steve step aside so that they could help Bucky to his feet and over to the table so they could do a full exam and ensure he was fully functional and healthy.

“Suppose it’s too much to hope that you fixed my brain in my sleep,” Bucky murmured as someone wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm.

“Afraid so. You gotta do some of the hard work yourself, you know,” Steve teased, which drew a laugh. Bucky glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the rest of the team. 

“You throwing me a welcome back party?” he asked them jokingly.

“Ain’t a party without cake, Barnes,” Sam snorted in response. 

“Well, then I guess you owe me a cake.”

Sam shook his head. “Maybe, if you’re very lucky and you’re a good boy, you can have a lollipop or something when they’re done here.”

“I’m holding you to that, Wilson.” Bucky let out a shaky breath and turned towards Steve. “You wouldn’t have woken me up without a reason. What changed?”

Steve met his gaze and smiled reassuringly. “Only good news, Buck. They think they have a plan. A way to fix you and take the conditioning away.”

Bucky stared in disbelief and then blinked slowly, once, twice, before speaking again. “And... the words?”

“Shouldn’t have any hold on you when they’re done. I’ll let your doctors explain.” Bucky’s doctor stepped in and took the cuff off of Bucky’s arm, jotting down a few things on her pad before setting it aside and leveling her gaze at Bucky.

“It will be difficult, Sgt. Barnes. It will take time, and it will not be painless,” she told him honestly. “In order for this to work you are going to have to spend a lot of time remembering and dwelling on very painful memories. But it is necessary. The conditioning is deep, it’s the kind of thing that should only be possible in Cold War Ghost stories. In theories never put into practise.” 

“Haven’t you heard? I am a ghost story,” Bucky said flatly, the same resignation that had been in his voice when he’d told Steve ‘it always ends in a fight.’

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be,” she assured him. “But it will take work from all of us, and you will need to share parts of yourself I’m sure you’d rather keep hidden away. For that, I’m sorry. We will have a counsellor as part of your team to work with you --” Bucky opened his mouth to object but she shook her head and cut him off before he could speak “That is one of my conditions, Sgt. Barnes. You will need the support. Professionally. I am your doctor, this is an integral part in my recommended treatment plan. Trust me, please.”

Bucky hesitated for a moment, eyes darting to the side in consideration before he finally -- reluctantly -- nodded in agreement. 

“Thank you.” She said kindly. “Now, there is one more thing you should be aware of.” Here Wanda stepped in, and Steve moved aside so there was space for her at Bucky’s side. “Miss Maximoff has offered her exceptional abilities to help you,” The doctor explained. “I believe that her help will make this process quicker, easier on you, and give us a higher chance of success.”

“But?” Bucky asked, sensing a catch.

“But it would mean potentially that I would catch glimpses of your memories and your feelings,” Wanda explained.

“No.” Bucky’s reaction was immediate and he shook his head, recoiling. “No. I can’t. I can’t let you do that. I can’t have you go through that.”

“Bucky please,” she pleaded. “I won’t see your memories as you do. It doesn’t work that way. I cannot just read your mind like a book. What I would do is… more like a guide. I can help find the parts of your mind where your conditioning is embedded and help untangle it. At least… I hope I can.” 

“You hope?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” she smiled, “I've never done anything quite like this before.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” 

“I can also help ease some of your distress through the process,” she added hopefully. Bucky considered her for a long moment, obviously torn between wanting any help he could get and not wanting to subject her to this.

“Fine,” he said at last. “But if it gets to be too much, you stop. I know you're tough, saw it first hand. But still. Promise me that.”

“I will,” she promised. Steve breathed a near audible sigh of relief. Bucky turned to look at him, the two studying each other in silence, sharing some kind of unspoken conversation until Bucky reached forward. At the same time Steve stepped in and wrapped his arms around Bucky as Bucky rested his head against Steve's shoulder. 

“We're gonna get through this,” Steve murmured, reassuring him.

“Still don't know if I'm worth all this Steve,” Bucky responded, closing his eyes briefly.

“You are to me,” Steve promised. 

After that they'd all needed to step back to give the medical team space to move around and set up. Steve was surrounded on all sides -- Sam and Wanda on either side of him, Clint standing just behind them as if on guard. It felt weak, the way he needed them to coddle him like this. After all, it wasn't him sitting there waiting to have his head poked through. It wasn't him having to battle with his worst memories, memories of things that were done against his will, memories of having no will -- nothing but compliance. Bucky looked around the table he was sitting on, brows furrowing in confusion as he failed to see any --

“Where am I supposed to --?”

“Right where you are,” The doctor cut him off firmly before he could finish the thought. “We have no plan to restraint you for this procedure.”

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “No, that's dumb. That's reckless. I could --”

“It's a possibility, yes, that we could trigger something and you could attack. But it's a remote possibility. Your conditioning, those words are not about making you feral or about sending you off on a rampage. They are about compliance. Under their control you have eyes only for your target and your mission.”

“But what if you trigger something else and I snap? And I end up fighting you, thinking I'm defending myself? Or thinking you are my mission? Or that Steve is still my target?” Bucky protested but the doctor would not budge. She gently laid a hand on his shoulder, a gentle, reassuring touch and leveled with him.

“We are prepared for that. Captain Rogers is here first and foremost as your friend, but he will not let you hurt anyone. Nor will Wanda or Sam or Clint. Ayo is also present to protect us, and I don’t need to remind you that the King himself is a formidable warrior.” 

Steve glanced over towards the door and sure enough, Ayo had slipped inside the room and was standing guard, her attentive eyes watching them all. Steve nodded at her and she tilted her head slightly in response. He looked back at Bucky, their eyes meeting over the doctor’s shoulder. Bucky’s face flickered with uncertainty, but only for a moment. Steve stood, steadfast in his resolve and after a moment Bucky eased, his shoulders dropping and expression softening. Steve wasn’t going anywhere, that’s all either of them needed for now.

==

They had been warned that it was going to be rough, but being warned was never the same as living through it. Hours later, the five of them were curled up together in a quiet lounge tucked away in their wing. Bucky had wrapped himself tightly in a blanket, head resting on a pillow on Steve’s leg with Sam on the other side of him. Wanda had her knees tucked up to her chin in an overstuffed chair, a book her in hand that she wasn’t actually reading. Clint was close by in a chair of his own, stretched out and playing on his phone. In the background a movie was playing quietly on the TV but none of them were really paying attention. 

The medical team had assured Bucky that they’d made progress, and even now they were back in the lab poring over results of the scan. But it had been hard on Bucky. He’d ended up flashing back, stuck in the memory of the first time they’d put him into the chair, feeling all the fear and the pain over and over again, screaming until his voice was raw as the medics scrambled to isolate the pathways in his brain and guide him towards reframing and reworking the memory. Wanda had done her best to ease the shock of the memory and guide him through, trying to provide him a sense of calm and grounding. But even just being on the periphery of what he’d been feeling had dragged her down. After, when Bucky had finally come back into himself and into the present, he’d looked so raw and vulnerable and she had looked ready to cry. Bucky had opened his mouth to apologise but Wanda had fiercely shook her head, pulling him into a brief but tight hug. 

They had a baseline now. Bucky’s medical team assured him that with that data, next time they could zero in a little tighter, dig a little deeper. The more they worked through the memories, the more they reworked the neural pathways, the easier it would become and the less hold they’d have over Bucky. At least, that was the theory. 

Afterwards, Steve had been so grateful for Sam. Sam, who’d dealt with trauma himself, who’d helped people suffering trauma, who’d flown into active combat zones and pulled people out of the worst nightmares, who’d kept his head and treated them through the shock. Sam had been right there afterwards, at Bucky’s side, and had stayed close by all evening, watching him carefully, making sure he was warm and comfortable, making sure he didn’t get lost too far inside his own head. Steve, of course, was always going to be there to provide help and support, but he was grateful that Bucky had more than just him to rely on. He deserved to have other people watching out for him. 

Sam reached over and gave Bucky’s knee a gentle squeeze, silently checking in and causing Bucky to shift and peer out from his blanket cocoon, confirming in equal silence that he was still okay, still mostly present. It seemed to take effort, but he even managed to turn the corner of his mouth up into a hint of a smile, though without the usual snide remark that would have passed between them. Still, Steve couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten with affection as he glanced around the room at each of them, wondering how he’d managed to be so lucky to have friends like them -- here because they’d made a choice to stand by him, had chosen to support Bucky and were steadfast in it. It was enough that for a moment he could almost forget about the weight that had settled in his stomach after watching Tony walk out that day without so much as a glance behind, the weight that had stayed days later, even when there were more pressing things right in front of him that needed his attention.

He still hadn’t uttered a word about what happened. He didn’t have to. Every one of them would have figured out that it was something to do with Tony that had left such a mark on him, and the details didn’t matter -- not right now, anyway. Eventually he’d have to address what he was feeling, before it weighed him down too much, but not today. Today was for enjoying the warmth of the friends around him. They were trying to prevent Bucky from getting lost inside his head, it wouldn’t do for Steve to do the same. 

A moderate calm had settled over the room, and none of them noticed Natasha’s sudden and unexpected arrival until she’d slipped into the room and knelt on the the floor next to the couch beside Bucky. Bucky half sat up, looking at her with surprise until she softly shushed him. Bucky pushed himself the rest of the way up and stared at her, blinking. 

“I do. Remember you,” Bucky said, speaking for the first time in hours. “You said... when I broke out, you tried to stop me. You said I could at least recognise you. I do.”

“We don’t have to talk about this. It’s fine,” she said carefully, eyes assessing. 

“I didn’t recognise you in Odessa. Or in DC. Or when I ran. But I do now,”

“How much do you remember?” she asked without judgement. Beside him, Steve felt Bucky tense, his eyes dropping away from hers. 

“Most of it. The parts that matter. You were the one that came back.” His voice caught a little on the last word but Natasha’s expression didn’t shift, save to soften just a hint. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. But, believe me when I say that what you’re feeling... it’ll get easier.” Just like that, the moment passed, the tension evaporated, and Bucky dropped his head back to Steve’s leg as Natasha settled herself on the floor next to the couch. Although Steve couldn’t be completely certain what had just passed between the two of them, he knew enough of both their histories to put most of the pieces together. What mattered in the end was that Bucky had someone else behind him, someone with a unique understanding of what he was crawling out of. 

Eventually, Bucky settled enough that the stress and exhaustion took over and he drifted into sleep -- a necessity, the medics had said, in order for his mind to heal itself. Wanda had long since left for bed herself, desperately needing her own rest. Steve had carefully extracted himself from underneath the pillow to stand, drawing the blanket higher up around Bucky’s shoulders. Natasha motioned for them to follow and he, Sam, and Clint followed her over to the far side of the room, where they were less likely to disturb Bucky but could still keep an eye on him just in case. 

“I wasn’t expecting you back so soon,” Steve admitted once they’d settled around a small table. 

“I needed to talk to you,” she explained, pulling out a file from the bag she’d had at her side. “I wanted to go over what I have with you before I bring it to Maristela. The faster we move on this the better it is for everyone.” 

“She seems convinced she can get a panel to agree that they don’t have cause to bring up charges against him.”

“She’s right,” Natasha said, flicking the file open. “Everything we have on the Winter Soldier programme, all the testimonies we have, the medical reports from the doctors here... It’s messy, it’s ugly, but it lays it all out. Everything is on HYDRA, not him.”

Steve took his time flipping through all of it, every page, every reference to files that Natasha had safely backed up and stored on an encrypted drive. The amount of information that Natasha had been able to put together in a short time was staggering and beyond impressive.

“You’ve been busy. Where did you even find all of this?” Steve finally asked, putting aside a report that churned the bile in his stomach. 

“I know where to look, Steve. This isn’t entirely new to me,” she reminded him with a slight edge. 

The light padding of feet at their backs drew their attention as Bucky appeared behind them, the blanket still wrapped awkwardly around his shoulder and his hair slightly mussed from sleep. Wordlessly, he took a seat and pulled the file towards himself. No one made a move to stop him. For several minutes he flipped through the pages, frowning at some, moving quickly past others. It was Sam that finally broke the silence.

“There’s a difference, you know. Between doing something and being accountable for something. At least in your case there is. Most of the time, you do something, that’s your choice. It’s on you and you have to own it.” He stopped as Bucky flipped to a page that outlined a report one of the original scientist had filed towards the end of the conditioning process. It was twisted, outlining how successful they’d been at wiping the subject, stripping away everything that he had -- even his own name. The report praised the success of the team that had manage to supplant their own programming and reshape the asset into a perfectly crafted tool, and with the boost to his version of the serum he would be formidable. The report ended stating that James Barnes was no more -- the soldier had been born and the new asset was ready for training.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said, voice heavy with exhaustion. 

“This isn’t me saying that makes it any easier,” Sam added. “And you’re still an asshole and I hate you.” 

Bucky laughed at that, a short, sharp chuckle, but it was pure and real, a sound that Steve hadn’t heard in far too long. There hadn’t been much cause for laughing in the short time he’d had Bucky back. “I hate you too, Wilson,” he said without any venom. “So, you really think that you can convince them to stop coming after me? ‘Cause I really liked Bucharest. I mean, I knew I couldn't stay there forever, eventually someone was gonna find me. But I liked it. Kind of hard to figure out what you’re supposed to be when you’re always looking over your shoulder.” He shot a pointed glance over at Steve but there was no heat behind it.

“I make no apologies,” Steve said firmly, arms folded over his chest.

“Course you don’t. You never back down from anything, you punk. Even when it’s good for you.” Bucky managed a small smile and as the blanket slipped off his left shoulder Steve easily leaned over and pulled it back up. 

“With everything else going on, I forgot to tell you. The science team built a new prototype arm for you using the scans they took before you went under. It’s nearly ready for testing.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “What, really?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. They wanted to wait until the medical team was done with, you know... Everything they’re working on. One thing at a time, and priorities. But yeah, if you want it, when you’re in the clear, it’s ready for you.”

“You seem pretty confident that this plan to sort my head out is going to work,” Bucky said skeptically.

“I am,” Steve agreed without hesitation. “You have a team of some of the best scientists in the world working with you. We have all the resources we need at our disposal. And you have all of us. So yes, I am confident.” 

Bucky took one more look down at the report and closed the file, sliding it back over to Natasha. “Thank you,” he said and she simply nodded. 

“If you’re okay with what I have here, I’m going to meet with your representative and pass this on to her.”

“I have a representative?” Bucky asked, tilting his head in surprise.

“You do. I vetted her myself, completely and totally. No shady past, no ties to HYDRA, no ulterior motives. She is genuinely a good person who believes in fair justice, protecting people from unfair prosecution, and she is one of the best damn legal minds I have ever met. She knows your history -- enough of it, anyway. She believes fully in clearing your name and restoring James Barnes. You won’t find anyone better than her.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” It was an offhand comment but still Steve felt the weight of responsibility settle on him. Bucky would go along because he trusted Steve and by extension those that Steve trusted. Steve swore to do right by him. They all would.

==

Sure, every session was probably getting easier, sure they were probably making progress, but it sure as hell didn’t feel like it in the moment, watching Bucky’s laboured breathing, his eyes squeezed shut. The medical team insisted on working in shorter sessions, saying that Bucky and Wanda both needed the time to recover and they refused to budge, no matter how much they both insisted. Wanda had be correct in her assessment that her part in the process wouldn’t be too draining on her. She was able to keep her distance, guiding Bucky’s mind and grounding him where needed. The process would have worked without her, but there was no denying that her skills made it faster and easier, allowing Bucky to recover more quickly. Some days he spent the evening worn out and run down, laying curled up with a thousand-yard stare. Some days he spent the evening engaging with the rest of the crew, actually laughing and enjoying himself. But slowly, the good days began to outnumber the bad -- each day, digging into his mind became a little easier and a little less painful. 

Right up until it wasn’t.

One second Bucky was relaxed, lying down on the medical bed with his head propped up on a pillow, hand resting lazily on his stomach. The next, his whole body tensed and the scream that filled the room cut Steve down to his core. In an instant Steve was at his side, catching Bucky as he bolted upright and tried to stabilize himself with his left arm, forgetting it wasn’t there. He crashed into Steve’s chest, shaking, the screams shifting into sobs as he tried to push away and pull close at the same time, clawing at the device at the base of his skull.

“Don’t let him remove that!” the doctor shouted as her team scrambled around the work terminals, shouting rapidly at one another. Another shudder and a pained sob rolled through Bucky and Steve was just about to pull the device off himself when the doctor appeared at their side. 

“Don’t,” she said again, catching Bucky gently by the chin and tilting his head up to look at her. “This is it, this is what we’ve been struggling with. This is the root. I need to stay with this Bucky, just a little longer. And I promise it’ll all be over.”

It damn well better be, because Steve wasn’t sure how much more of watching Bucky suffer like this he could take. Wanda was right there with them, her red tendrils of energy circling his head and the doctor talked Bucky through what he was thinking, feeling, remembering. All the while, the technicians at the terminals kept working, making adjustments that Steve didn’t understand as the device pulsed gently next to Bucky’s head. He’d never done well with feeling helpless, and just holding Bucky while they worked didn’t feel like doing enough. Nothing ever felt like enough. 

Steve lost track of time after that, lost track even of what the doctor was saying until Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, let out a breath that was caught in his throat and slumped heavily against Steve, breath slowly evening out. It took half a second for Steve to realise that Bucky was unconscious and he looked up at the doctor with alarm. 

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “His body and his brain and overwhelmed. He needs the rest right now.”

“What the hell happened?” Steve demanded, allowing her to help him carefully lay Bucky down. 

“There is a physicality to what we were trying to do, remember that,” she explained as she started checking Bucky’s vitals. “His conditioning involved HYDRA making physical changes to the pathways and connections in his brain and making them permanent so that they became an ingrained part of his physiology. Trying to rework that was never going to be a painless process. HYDRA intended for it to be irreversible, so there was some resistance. His brain and his body fighting back against the changes that we tried to engineer, like it would have done the first time with HYDRA. Inevitably, we would trigger memories, sensations, especially at the foundation.”

“You told him after this it would be over,” Steve said, eyes narrowing.

“Because I believe that we were able to break through the last of it. To... rewire it, for lack of a better analogy,” she explained carefully.

“You think he’s okay.”

“I think that the words and the pattern that was used to trigger him into a specific state no longer have the same hold on him.” 

Steve stared at her in disbelief. Yes, that’s what they’d been hoping for, that’s what the point of these sessions day after day were, but now when actually presented with that as a new reality he was in shock.

“He’s going to be okay, Steve,” she promised, and he looked up at her bright and hopeful expression. “No one will ever have that power over him again. I swear to you.” Steve’s own eyes were prickling with tears and the doctor wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head against her shoulder. He stayed there for a moment, appreciating the comfort as he drew in a shaky breath and then pulled back, righting himself. 

“I can’t thank you enough. All of you.” His voice was rough but steady. Wanda gave his shoulder a gentle nudge as she passed him on her way to follow the nurses to lay down in one of the other beds in the room to rest so they could keep an eye on her. Figuring out that none of them were going to leave before Bucky was awake, Clint offered to go and get them all coffee, which Steve and Sam both accepted gratefully. Sam pulled a few chairs around to the far side of Bucky’s bed, out of the way. Steve was about to take a seat when the phone in his pocket began to ring. A phone call then, not a text chime. He frowned as he pulled it out from his pocket, not expecting a phone call, as very few people even had this number -- one he’d picked up since being on the run. 

Seeing the number on the screen he nearly stopped breathing. It was Tony. The burner phone he’d sent to Tony in the post, pre-programmed with the new number Steve was using. 

Tony was calling him.

Sam looked over, eyes widening when he saw who was calling. “You have to take that,” he said quickly. “I’m serious, Steve. You have to. Bucky’s still gonna be here when you hang up. I’ll stay with him so he’s not alone when he wakes up. But if you don’t pick up that phone right now, he’s not going to try again. We both know that.”

Sam was right. God only knew what had driven to Tony making this call in the first place, but if Steve wasn’t there, if Steve didn’t answer now, then he wasn’t ever going to get the chance. Hands shaking, he excused himself from the room and hit the button to answer. Dead air hung between them for a long moment before Steve worked up the courage to speak. 

“Tony?” he asked carefully, even though there was no doubt in his mind who was at the other end of the line. 

“Yeah,” Tony said after another long pause. “This was stupid. I should --”

“Please don’t hang up,” Steve begged, his heart leaping into his throat at the idea of Tony hanging up on him now. “Please... Just stay for a little bit? We don’t even have to talk.” 

It would be enough just to have Tony there, to hear the sounds of him breathing, knowing that he was okay and that the distance between them wasn’t quite so big. It seemed that Tony was willing to accept that offer and for several minutes neither of them said anything else. That was fine. Steve made his way back towards the wing they were staying in and out onto the terrace he’d been spending so much time on. It had proven to be a good place to have tough conversations before, and the quiet tranquility of it provided some of the calm he needed. 

“I’ve been busy. Since the last time I saw you.” Tony broke the silence after a while. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle softly. 

“When are you not busy, Tony?” 

“No, I don’t mean -- I meant I’ve been --” he cleared his throat, clearly stumbling over his words a little. “I’ve been reading.”

“Reading,” Steve repeated, prompting Tony to continue. 

“After. After the data dump, I skimmed some stuff. Relevant stuff, enough. Tech stuff obviously, stuff that related to me. I had FRIDAY go over everything and pull out the important bits. In there, obviously, was enough to... to paint a picture. Of what happened. I mean.” Steve heard something clang in the background -- workshop, then. Tony was working on something while they spoke, which was unsurprising. Tony always liked keeping his hands busy no matter what he was doing. He was always so tactile. 

“I knew HYDRA was behind it. HYDRA was growing in SHIELD, he got wise to it, they offed him. That was the story, and it sucked.” He took a deep breath -- audible over the line -- and Steve could picture it in his mind, Tony sitting up at his workbench, display screens off to one side, tools laid out in front him him, surrounded by his creations and his genius. The couch that he liked to nap on pushed off in the corner. Steve liked that couch. He’d liked sitting there with his own work in hand, happy for the company that Tony’s presence provided. Back when things were simpler. When they’d been a team, and a family. 

“You weren’t kidding about the rest of it being buried. Were you?” he said a moment later. “I had to go digging myself, cross referencing old SI files. Piecing everything together. It’s not that I didn’t believe you... But I had to see for myself. I mean, fuck, it’s been how many years since I ki -- since he died and his ghost is still haunting me. Still.” Tony’s breath was shakier now but Steve didn’t dare to interrupt him now. “Howard trusted him. They both did. I trusted him. He’s all I had when they died you know. Him and Rhodey. And he -- he gave the goddamn eulogy, Steve. He stood up there and talked about how great Howard was, how he was a visionary, how he was a friend, how much he’d be missed. And the whole damn time he was the reason they were dead. You were right, he knew. He knew dad was onto HYDRA, he knew that dad had been working in secret on a new version of the serum. Never could let that one go. I made a lot of dumb choices, Steve, I know that. But him… he was a poison in my entire life and I never --I never --” 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve cut in.

“Oh, don’t start,” Tony scoffed, his voice shaking.

“No, I mean it. Let me say this, because I am sorry,” Steve pressed on. “All the time I’ve known you and I never saw. I met you first as someone that I fought beside, so somewhere along the line I forgot. Well no, I didn’t forget, I was always aware that you weren’t a soldier and I was aware of what you’d survived to get to the point you were at. But I never stopped to consider if you were okay.”

“Of course I was okay,” Tony said automatically.

“No, you weren’t. Admit it to yourself even if you can’t to me.” Steve paused, trying to figure out how best to say what he needed to say without it coming out as condescending. “Look, I’m not the best at this either. We... we didn’t talk about things like this before. Trauma, I mean. How... uh... it can affect you. It took me a long time to find the words for it, or to do something other than break punching bags. Wasn’t until I met Sam that I really started to understand. Point is Tony, you never had the support you needed. I was your teammate, your friend, your Captain, and someone who understands, in my own way. I should have seen it, I should have helped and I didn’t. And that’s what I’m sorry for.” 

“That’s not why I called, Steve,” Tony said defensively. 

“I know. But I figured while I had you on the line... I should say that.” Another long pause followed, one Steve was determined not to break, allowing Tony the chance to decide what he needed to say. 

“Natasha stopped by. On her way to see that lawyer. You know, the only one on the damn council who actually seems to know what the hell she’s talking about? Maristela Ferreiro.” Tony had apparently actually bothered to learn her name and Steve was secretly pleased that Tony seemed to respect her as much as he did. “Nat didn’t stay long. Came in, glared at me, dropped a copy of a file on my desk and said ‘do yourself a favour and read this’ before she left again.” Steve snorted at that. Normally that was a sure fire way to make sure Tony never looked any anything. However, this was Natasha. “Yeah, yeah, you know I promptly ignored it. Or tried to. But it’s Natasha, you know what she’s like.” Steve hummed in agreement.

“Anyway, the other night I was up wandering around. Long story short I decided to take a look at what she thought was so important before she came after me. You’ll never guess what she left.” The tone in his voice suggested that he actually figured that Steve knew exactly what she left. Which is why it was no surprise when Tony followed it up with: “A complete copy of the file she was about to hand over to Maristela for Barnes’ defence.” Steve closed his eyes, waiting for the tirade that was surely about to follow. “You know, I damn near tossed the whole thing right then and there. But then I never would have heard the end of it from Natasha so I started flipping through it. It was incredibly detailed, very complete.”

“Natasha is nothing if not thorough in her work,” Steve added, leaning against the stone railing. 

“She is. It’s a pretty full account of the Winter Soldier Programme. And what HYDRA was -- is -- capable of. What they did… I’m honestly surprised he survived some of that.”

“Bucky is tough. Always has been,” Steve said weakly, struggling to not think about how not long before, Bucky had been trembling in his arms in pain. 

“I couldn’t have survived it,” Tony said quieter. “I don’t know if I can forgive him, Steve. I honestly don’t, not for what he did. And I’m not apologising for what I did. But I understand better. I get why you chose him, why you’ll always choose him. And --” Tony’s voice was shaking fairly badly now, and Steve was grateful for the phones for giving them enough distance to have a conversation that they never would have gotten through face to face. “I don’t know if I can forgive him, but if it wasn’t him then HYDRA would have found another way to carry out Stane’s hit. They just happened to be in bed with the Soviets at the time, so it worked out nicely. It’s so much easier to hate Bucky and to blame him. And I want to keep doing that. But... that file is pretty damn convincing. And I also can’t bring myself to blame a man for something he has no control over. But tell me something, Steve. Does he really remember them all now?”

“Yes,” Steve confirmed, feeling his chest ache a little. “Once they stopped wiping him his memories started knitting themselves back together. He remembers most of his time with them. He remembers the hits. It’s been... difficult.”

“How’s he doing?” Tony asked suddenly. Steve was taken aback because it actually sounded like Tony almost cared.

“It’s been rough,” Steve said honestly, since apparently honesty was a thing they were doing now. “The, uh, the medical team here thinks they’ve managed to undo the conditioning. For the words. So no one can take control of him like that again.”

“That’s incredible,” Tony said in shock. “I mean it. I read that file, I know what they did, I get how it works. They reversed it? Really?”

“Yeah... they think so. We still have to run some tests to make sure. But I think he’ll be okay.” 

“I’m glad,” Tony said after a moment. “I mean that, I really am glad. I know how much he means to you. And no one should have the kind of power over anyone else. Wakanda really is amazing.”

“I never said we were in Wakanda,” Steve said quickly and he could practically hear the eye roll in Tony’s response.

“Please, you never said it but of course that’s where you were. Seriously, Steve, I’m not an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Steve agreed with a small chuckle. They lapsed into another silence after that, this one far more comfortable and relaxed until it was Steve who broke it. “I miss you, Tony. So much.”

A hesitation on the other end before Tony responded, “I miss you too Cap.” He followed it quickly. “I should go. But they’ll be calling another meeting soon... I’ll see you there.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Cap.”

They hung up and for a moment Steve just stared at the phone in his hand, hardly believing that conversation had just happened. When he finally tucked it away and turned to head back inside, for the first time since the day Secretary Ross had walked into their compound, the weight in his stomach felt a little lighter and the feeling in his chest a little more hopeful. 


	6. Chapter 6

The call to return to yet another meeting didn't come nearly as quickly as any of them would have liked. Natasha assured him the delay was just because they were reviewing Bucky's case before calling them back.

“They know you won't sign without them clearing him. They're not going to call you back in until everything is in line.”

“And what if they don't pardon him?” Steve asked, halting his pacing to glance back at her.

“They will. There’s almost no question of it,” she said easily.

“Why are you so damn certain about that?” Bucky chimed in from his spot on the sofa. Up until that point he’d been fairly quiet on the subject of himself and his pardon. But his curiosity was piqued now, and he stood up carefully, trying to not over balance himself. He was still adjusting to the new arm -- both to having it back and to the fact that it was lighter and responded differently. He was meeting with physical therapists and the designers of it daily to work on integration. He was still meeting with the medical team to monitor him at his insistence, despite the fact that he’d been given an all clear.

That had been a nerve wracking day, the day they actually put Bucky’s conditioning, or lack thereof, to the test. They’d taken a couple of days after the last session to let Bucky recover some of himself before they’d even started discussing parameters and conditions and safeguards. After he’d woken up in the hospital, Bucky hadn’t said anything for almost twenty four hours. But he’d bounced back, come into himself again. When the time came, he’d insisted that Steve be the one to say them, arguing that if something went wrong he was was triggered back to that state, Steve was the only one he trusted to have that hold over him. It had been nerve wracking for them both, Steve struggling to speak clearly and with authority, Bucky struggling to keep his breathing calm and even to stop himself from panicking. Steve had paused as he uttered the last word. Nothing in Bucky’s stature or expression had changed.

_Soldat?_ He’d said, daring to hope.

Bucky had looked at him, blinked once. A ghost of a smile on his lips he’d replied: _Go to hell, Steve_.

Now, as Bucky strode across the room to join their conversation in full, Steve couldn’t help but think how much better Bucky was looking. Lighter, a little less haunted, a little less strained around the eyes. Far from okay, but better and more whole.

“What makes me so certain is that they need Steve,” she said mildly. Bucky’s expression narrowed and he looked over at Steve accusingly, which Steve thought wasn’t entirely warranted. “They need him to sign the Accords, it’s never going to hold weight without him and Tony both signing. Steve won’t sign without a guarantee of your freedom and clearing of your name. This review is a formality. They need to make sure that you really aren’t a threat and that you’re not still under HYDRA’s control for the sake of accountability, nothing more. They were always going to concede to Steve’s demand. We all got lucky that the Winter Soldier programme was kept so completely under wraps that not many people knew about it. The information was never attached to SHIELD, it never got released in the data dump. Which means the public never got ahold of it. If word had gotten out that would be another issue, and it would have been a nightmare. Now, with the information I gave them and the reports from the testing done here, they’re going to clear you. The gain of having Steve publicly on board completely outweighs the cost of any risk from you -- risks that we’ve proven have been mitigated.”

Bucky stared at them both in awe. “This was your plan all along?”

Steve shrugged in response. “I didn’t really have a plan, to be honest. I was kind of winging it. I went in there and laid out my conditions clearly. Everything from there I was kind of... hoping for the best, I guess. Natasha’s really the one who put all the pieces together and made it possible.”

He was still going to feel a hell of a lot better when the official word came in, but with Bucky recovering, his almost-certain freedom on the horizon, Tony talking to him again... he was actually ready to believe that they would come out of this in one piece. And not a moment too soon. Along with the optimism regarding Bucky’s release, Natasha had also expressed her concerns over HYDRA’s movements, the whispers she couldn’t pin down before growing into something bolder. In a gesture of good faith and in anticipation of the upcoming meeting she’d shared the information that she’d gathered -- through T’Challa of course. Three days after that they’d received the call, asking for all of them, everyone who had previously fought under the Avengers banner, to go to Geneva with an invitation extended to Bucky.

“It’s an ‘invitation’ but I would not recommend declining,” T’Challa had advised him as the team was scurrying to make themselves ready.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it,” Bucky said grimly and headed off towards the landing strip. Before Steve could follow, T’Challa stopped him.

“I anticipate that another battle is not far off, Captain. And although you will not fight as Captain America, I would not see you disadvantaged.” From out of a bag beside him he pulled out a shield, an exact copy of the one he’d left behind with Tony, save that it was all silver metal. “You have adapted to fighting with a vibranium shield. I would feel better knowing that you were not going into battle unshielded.”

It was a beautiful gift, and on top of everything that the King and his Kingdom had done for Steve, he almost couldn’t accept it.

“Thank you,” he said reverently, taking the shield and running his fingers over the smooth edges.

“I admit it’s not entirely selfless,” T’Challa laughed. “If I am to be fighting as your comrade, I feel better knowing you are in a better position to cover me.”

“I can respect that,” Steve said with a laugh as he admired the shield again, testing it for weight and balance. “Thank you for this. For everything.”

“I said that if I could, I would help you and your friends find peace. I stand by that. And thank you, truly, for agreeing to sign the Accords. We made mistakes last time, I see that now. But these agreements will be a part of my father's legacy. I wish for it to be a good and strong one. A chance for my people to step out of the shadows and a chance for us to gain new allies and friends.”

“Well, I hope you consider yourself to have done that,” Steve said.

“Yes, I certainly have, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

For once, Tony had actually ended up making it to the Palace of Nations before Steve, and quickly decided that had been a mistake. Waiting and pacing around the corridors was a lot worse than waiting on the jet en route and arriving just in time to start. He hadn't been nervous before any of the other meetings -- anxious, sure. Annoyed -- definitely. But now? Now he was honest to god nervous, which was stupid. He knew exactly why they were here, exactly what was going to happen. He _knew_ Barnes was about to be exonerated of any culpability while under HYDRA’s control, and that made sense. He'd read the reports, Natasha had quietly slipped him a copy of the medical report. Barnes wasn't going to be deemed a threat. He wasn't going to be held responsible. The council needed both he and Steve on board, and they’d have been willing to do damn near anything Steve asked to get there. It would have been interesting, Tony mused, if he’d laid down his own demands -- said that he refused to sign unless Barnes was held accountable for his actions. He could have dug his heels in, made it personal. But he’d seen first hand what neither of them budging looked like and truth be told, he didn’t have the energy for another round of that. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to happen to Barnes anymore, which made the whole issue of witnessing what was about to happen a hell of a lot more complicated.

Part of him still wanted to punch Bucky in the face as hard as he could, wrap his hands around Bucky’s throat until he couldn’t breathe. Unfortunately for him, every time he strayed down that thought path he was blocked by the images of Steve burned into his mind -- Steve’s grief, his anger, his disappointment. And wasn’t that just a kick in the ass?

Another part of him -- the part that mostly only liked to make itself heard in the darkness of the middle of the night when Tony was lying awake in bed in the quiet stillness -- that reminded him of what it was like to be held captive, the pain and the fear. That part of him of him had been a lot louder and a lot more insistent on being heard in the days since Natasha had dropped Bucky’s file on him. God, he wished he could ignore it for a multitude of reasons. But no, this part of his brain that in the past had kept him up with nightmares and memories replaying every time he closed his eyes had now stepped up its game and was haunting him with reminders that if it were anyone else, it it hadn’t been his parents Bucky had killed, he’d have been advocating forgiveness.

But it had been his parents Bucky killed, so it _was_ different, wasn’t it?

Except, really, it was HYDRA who’d killed them. Bucky had just been the tool.

But it had still been Bucky’s hands.

His circular thoughts were brought to a sudden and grinding halt as the limo and the escort vehicle pulled up to the wide front steps, and he was pulled back to the here and now, standing on the steps with Rhodey and Natasha on either side of him.

“You ready for this?” Rhodey asked, and Tony shrugged.

“Probably not, but we’re doing it anyway,” he responded honestly.

One by one, the rest of Tony’s team -- old team? Soon to be team again? -- stepped out. T’Challa first, followed by Sam, Clint, Wanda, Steve and then... after a moment's hesitation, Bucky. Tony immediately tensed at the sight of him and had to forcibly bite back a snide remark. His brow furrowed at the sight of the new metal arm. That had been fast. Shouldn’t have been a surprise, what with the genius of Wakandan engineering, but it was still a shock to see. Looking away, he turned his attention to Steve. Steve, who climbed up the steps, shoulders square and head held high and proud. Steve, who looked a little more rested and a little less run down than the last time Tony had seen him. Steve, who looked over at him, too, and offered the barest hint of a smile that might as well have been brighter than the sun for the way it made Tony’s stomach flutter.

“Cap,” he greeted with a nod, playing it cool. “Glad to see you and the band of merry men made it safe.

“You, too,” Steve responded, and it actually sounded like he damn well meant it, too. T’Challa and Steve both shook hands with the envoy that stood alongside them. While they were making nice and playing formal, out of the corner of his eye Tony saw Sam approach Rhodey, shoulders square and hands resting behind his back. He had to bite back the urge to snarl and throw himself in between the two, even though he didn't blame Sam for what had happened. It wasn't his fault, he'd acted on instinct as a soldier under fire. And as Rhodey had pointed out to Tony on the morning before his first surgery, if Sam had taken the hit without the armour Rhodey had, it would have killed him. No question. And none of them could have lived with that.

Sam and Rhodey exchanged a few words -- too quiet for Tony to make out, but after a second Rhodey clapped Sam on the shoulder and Sam’s tight posture eased a little. Tony felt his own chest unclench a little as the two fell into step together, Sam easily matching Rhodey’s slower pace.

“Rhodey looks good,” Steve murmured and Tony realised that while he'd zoned out, they'd finished up the awkward meet and greet and he was being herded inside.

“Yeah, well. Rhodey’s tough. And he's been working damn hard,” Tony said, daring to glance over at Steve.

“Tony, I’m --” for half a second Tony thought that Steve was going to apologise, and damn it he better not because if he did, if he tried to, Tony was certain he was going to punch Steve in the face. Which would not have been a fortuitous start to their meetings. Fortunately, Steve seemed think better of what he was about to say. “I'm glad to see you again,” Steve finished awkwardly.

“Of course you are, I'm awesome,” Tony said blandly, on reflex, flashing Steve his camera smile and immediately kicking himself for it. Steve flinched -- almost imperceptible -- but Tony saw the way Steve pulled away as if hit. “That's not -- I mean -- shit,” Tony scrambled.

“It's fine,” Steve said quickly and Tony shut up immediately, and awkward silence settling between them.

Inside they struggled to find their seats, shuffling around one another. Tony had been so used to sitting across from Steve in these meetings, the table acting as a kind of barrier between them, and now he was suddenly hyper aware of having Steve right next to him, and how distracting that would be. But it would be kind of weird if he moved, wouldn’t it? He hovered in his indecision until Rhodey made up his mind for him, settling himself in a chair two down from Steve, leaving a spot open for Tony in between them. Somewhat reluctantly, Tony took his seat.

As had been his MO up to this point, Tony tuned out at the beginning of the meeting. It was always boring legal logistical UN stuff that he didn’t actually care about. He’d rather save his attention for the important stuff anyway. Instead, his mind wandered until he found himself back in his lab, staring at the antiquated excuse of a ‘phone’ that Steve had left him programmed with only one number -- one Tony hadn’t recognised but it had been pretty damn easy to figure out who’d be on the other end. He’d had half a mind just to smash the damn thing and be done with it -- like hell he’d ever call Steve after what had happened. There were other people who could step in if he needed help. But instead, he’d shoved it to the back of a drawer and forgotten about it. Or at least that was the story he tried to spin in his head. The reality was that that phone was burning a hole in his mind, knowing that Steve was a button away. There were nights -- especially after Steve had dropped the Stane bombshell -- that knowledge was all consuming, yet he still could not bring himself to get rid of the damn thing. There it had sat, until he’d gone through every last record, every last report that even hinted at that night -- the night his world came crashing down -- and he was left sitting up feeling cold and lonely and wrecked. The need to hear Steve’s voice again had been too great and with trembling fingers he’d made the call.

Now here he sat, having gone from a world apart to being pressed shoulder to shoulder. There wasn’t enough space between them, there was too much space between them and Tony wasn’t sure which was worse.

“These are the parameters that we had agreed upon, the expanded details and functional guidance procedures of which are in the documents you were all given.” The moderator’s voice cut through and pulled Tony out of the hole that he was digging inside his own head. “The Avengers will operate without state affiliation. To facilitate that end, Captain Rogers will not carry the mantel of Captain America while conducting Avengers business. The Avengers are free to continue operations out of their home base in the state of New York. They are free to conduct their own missions as they see fit. However, they are not to operate on foreign soil without the consent and approval of the Government in question, who have full authority to both participate in said missions alongside the Avengers but who also have the authority to choose to handle a threat themselves without outside aid. The Avengers will be held accountable for their actions, accountable to these agreements and accountable to all other laws that are applied to combatants both domestically and internationally. The Avengers should be willing to share intelligence information that may be pertinent to the safety and well being of a country and its citizens.” Removing his glasses the moderator looked up at them all gravely.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he continued. “There is no doubt that the world owes you a great debt. You have done a great service in fighting against threats that the world could not even imagine. But now it’s our time to play our part. It’s up to our Governments to decide how operations that affect the defence of our nations are conducted, to exercise our rights to sovereignty and self determination. Now that we’ve seen what’s out there, we need a team that represents the world and can willingly work with us to keep us all safe. Are you prepared to do this?”

All eyes in the room turned to Steve -- the moderator, the delegates, the team. Shoulders squared and eyes fierce with determination, Steve nodded. “We will,” he said, and turned towards Tony, waiting expectantly.

“Uh... yeah,” Tony agreed. “We will. Definitely. Yup.” At least, he’d try to... That had to count for something right?

“Now, for the matter of Sgt. James Barnes. Sgt. Barnes, will you please stand?” A moment of hesitation and then the scrape of a chair had Tony turning his head towards the far end of the table, where Bucky had tucked himself away in the corner, hunched over and half hiding behind Sam. He rose and stood, shoulders tense and all raw potential energy, but in his face was open, genuine fear and anxiety. “Sergeant, this committee has been presented with your case. The previous charges against you from the bombing in Vienna have been dropped. We have reviewed the reports compiled on the Winter Soldier project, we have heard testimonies from those with insight on the project, from your medical team, from leading psychologists and researchers who specialize in this field, from your friends. That you were responsible for the deaths of dozens of strategic targets and civilian casualties as collateral damage is irrefutable. However, upon reviewing the information we have been presented, the council has decided to not place further blame on you for the actions taken under HYDRA, and will therefore not be pressing any further charges or conducting any further trials. Further to the assurances from your medical team that you are no longer a threat or susceptible to your conditioning, I am pleased to tell you that your identity has been re-instated and military records amended. James Buchanan Barnes is no longer considered to have been killed in action in 1944. You can have your life back, Sergeant. However, we’ll be keeping an eye on you. And while in the future you will be permitted to join the Avengers in an active capacity, this council must insist that you delay doing so until you’re cleared by a counsellor.” Tony watched as Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could say anything Sam’s gentle voice cut in.

“Just ‘cause they took the kill switch out doesn’t mean you’re ready to fight, Barnes. You need to take some time to sort yourself out before you go back out there, that’s all they’re asking.”

Tony stopped listening again after that. He’d known it was coming and he still felt a punch to the gut. And he’d been forced to look away when he saw Bucky’s eyes begin to water and his rough voice say, “Thank you. I don’t feel like I deserve it, but thank you.”

Tony hadn’t really felt like he deserved his second chance either, but that was different.

Wasn’t it?

==

Turned out that sorting out the accords and dealing with Barnes hadn’t been the only motivation behind bringing the band back together. Which made sense really. If it were just about getting him and Steve to sign crap and sorting out Barnes, they could have done it without packing everyone else up. But no. Of course the coucou wanted them to sign off and hit the ground running. If Tony hadn't known better he'd have said it was Fury’s handiwork.

“Our intelligence indicates that HYDRA has an active and growing presence in the region. Further to that, we believe that a cell here is moving towards a large acquisition of heavy powered next generation weapons. We need to prevent this from happening. HYDRA is a global threat and no one understands them more than you.” That's what's they'd been told. So of course they'd all agreed. Of course they'd all geared up. Of course they’d all headed off to some backwater middle of nowhere spot in Eastern Europe. And it almost felt like old times. He and Rhodey, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Sam, Steve -- even though some of them Tony had never really fought beside, with his whole admittedly failed retirement. He still missed Bruce a lot, and the addition of T’Challa was a little weird because hey, no one had actually said that T’Challa was on the team -- but as Natasha had pointed out, the Accords still applied to him, so fine, he could come along.

Natasha had been the one to brief them all on the short flight over to Croatia. Word was HYDRA was trying to collect their weapons at a port there, and once they got onto the mainland and dispersed they were going to be impossible to track down. The plan was a simple, straightforward one -- port authorities had been alerted, Tony, Rhodey and Sam would provide the air support and the eyes, making sure nothing got past the net Steve, Clint, Natasha, T’Challa and Wanda would engage on the ground, and they all had comm links. It wasn’t anything they hadn’t done dozens of times before. Straight forward in and out, stop the bad guy, grab the weapons, home for dinner.

Tony really shouldn’t have been so surprised when it all went to shit.

“Damnit, Falcon, I thought you were covering the west side!” Tony yelled into the comm as he shot across the shipping yard, dodging shots being fired his way.”

“I’m a little busy here, these guys are packing serious firepower,” Sam snapped back. “I thought Rhodey was on it.”

“Rhodey is pinned down, which you’d know if you used your damn eyes,” Tony growled. To hell with anything else, Rhodey needed back up. Truth be told, Tony only had a vague idea where anyone else was at the moment. A disproportionate amount of his attention had been taken up looking out for Rhodey, especially after he realised HYDRA had come to this pick up armed to the teeth, ready to blast all of them out of the air. It had been clear right from the moment that they first arrived in the shipping yard that they were all woefully underprepared, their intelligence had been bad, and they were walking into a damn ambush. It had been too quiet, there wasn’t a hint of movement and when Tony had done a scan of the area he hadn’t picked up any heat signatures. The realisation of what they’d walked into was just slowly dawning on them when the first volley of shots rang out, coming at them from all sides. They’d all scattered, ducking for cover, and their fragile plan of attack had gone up in literal smoke with the first grenade blast.

Tony looked over just in time to see Rhodey narrowly dodging a high-powered round that had been fired from somewhere Tony couldn’t yet trace, because he’d been too busy trying to pay attention to seventeen different things at once. “Goddamn it will someone take care of those snipers?”Tony cursed into the comms. “They’re pinning us down.”

“Yeah I’m working on it. Sam, I’m coming,” Clint snapped back and from the corner of his eye Tony caught Clint waving at Sam to catch him as he threw himself off a ledge that would have provided excellent sniper cover -- right up until it exploded a moment later. Clint’s cheerful whooping was cut short by Steve’s voice cutting through the channel.

“I need back up, I’m cornered here.” His voice sounded strained, Tony could hear the distant ping of bullets off the shield -- no, not THE shield he reminded himself -- but Steve was on the other side of the yard and Rhodey --

“Negative, Rhodey’s taking heavy fire,” he responded.

“Tony, I can handle it,” Rhodey gritted as he took a shot at one of the attackers that ended up going wide because he’d had to dodge a mini missile headed his way.

“Clint and I are grounded right now, we’ll try and make our way over, and Natasha’s on the other side of the yard,” Falcon said apologetically. “Hang in there, Steve, we’re coming.”

“We are headed over,” Wanda informed them with grim determination. As Tony spiralled down to tackle one of the assholes taking pot shots at his Rhodey, he saw a wave of red energy and a stack of metal barrels came crashing down as Wanda vaulted herself and T’Challa over a stack of shipping crates.

The shipping crates.

That was part of what was killing them. It made it impossible for the ground fighters to get the lay of the land, to see around corners, to keep track of where everyone was. It was too easy to get caught in corners, too easy to separate them, especially when HYDRA had obviously done their homework and memorized the layout and knew exactly how to use it to their advantage.

Because, again, ambush. They’d obviously chosen this location specifically to advantage themselves, and to seriously disadvantage the Avengers. And the worst part was that it was working.

With a whirl of his repulsor Tony blasted down one of the agents that was about to take a shot at Rhodey. It should have made him feel better, but it didn’t.

“Damnit, Tony, I told you I was fine,” Rhodey cursed, but there was no heat or venom behind the words.

“Course you were fine, I just like sweeping in to rescue you cupcake,” Tony grinned behind the faceplate. Rhodey huffed and raised his fist, firing a shot over Tony’s shoulder. Sure enough, another swarm appeared -- how many goons did these assholes have anyway? -- and without a word both he and Rhodey took off into the air, falling into their familiar pattern of fighting, covering each other’s backs, anticipating each other’s actions like it was second nature.

For a moment it was fine, everything felt okay. Until--

“Captain Rogers is surrounded. We cannot break the perimeter and they’ve set up explosives all around the area,” T’Challa informed them, followed by a crash that indicated that Wanda was still throwing things around at the enemy. She was a good kid, fought hard, it was possible that Tony had been too hard on her. He’d have to revisit that when he wasn’t being shot at. And when he wasn’t dealing with the sinking feeling in his stomach the followed the realisation that Steve was in serious trouble.

“We’re coming, Cap,” Sam said, shooting through the air to try and get at Steve from up above, only to be pushed back by an impermeable volley of gunfire. Panic set in and Tony shot across the yard towards Steve’s location. Sam might not be able to get through a wall of bullets, but he could. Probably. If he had the time. Which it turned out he didn’t, and realised too late when he heard Steve cry out over the comm and gasp for air. He’d been hit.

“Fuck goddamn it,” Tony swore, and to hell with gun fire, to hell with explosives. Steve was shot because Tony hadn’t come when he first called for help. He could have, but he didn’t. There was the sound of scraping that indicated someone had pulled Steve’s comm out and Tony heard a muffled ‘Target acquired, move out,’ before it went silent.

Steve. This whole damn set up had been for Steve and Tony had let them all walk right into it.

“Don’t let them leave with him!” Tony yelled and flipped directions mid air to take off towards the chopper that had appeared, following the mass of fleeing agents, dragging a cuffed and barely conscious Steve behind them. Tony raised his hand to take aim at the chopper, because if nothing else he could stop them escaping. It was a good plan, right up until the deafening explosion, the wall of heat and the shock wave that flung him backward into a wall of crates with enough force that he black out half a second later.

==

Getting out of the medical ward had involved a lot of yelling, mostly him at Rhodey and Rhodey back at him. Rhodey was insisting that he needed to stay put and wait for the results of a CT scan, which Tony just waved off, assuring him that if anything came back wonky -- which clearly it wouldn’t because he was fine, thank you -- he’d deal with it then. Limping slightly, still sore from the impact and dealing with the lingering edges of a massive headache the painkillers hadn’t quite been able to chase away, Tony stumbled out of the ward, insisting that he be taken back to wherever the team was meeting. Because Steve was somewhere out there with HYDRA and Tony wasn’t going to rest until they got him back. Recognising a lost cause when he saw it, Rhodey slipped an arm around Tony to offer him some support and led him out to the waiting car.

It might have been better for his health had Tony stayed at the hospital. He walked into the room that the Avengers had overtaken as a briefing room and been instantly greeted by the sound of raised voices. Among them was Barnes, which, yeah, okay, that was a little terrifying, though Tony would never admit it out loud. There was a tense set in Barnes’ shoulders and Sam was pressed closed to his side, talking quietly to him, presumably trying to reassure him. Which Tony had to respect, considering Sam was probably feeling pretty tense and strung out himself. As soon as they stepped into the room Barnes turned to him and his eyes narrowed in what could only be described as a murder glare, and yeah, that was definitely terrifying. But Tony was having none of it.

“You,” Barnes spat out, his fists curling at his sides even as Sam rested a firm hand on his arm. “He needed help. He _called_ for help and you didn’t go. You could have. The others were pinned down but you had a clear shot to him.”

“I don’t know where you’re getting your intel from, but I was occupied. Steve wasn’t the only one taking fire,” Tony said a hell of a lot more calmly than he felt, especially considering that he secretly agreed with everything Barnes was saying -- and wasn’t that a kick in the teeth.

“Bullshit,” Barnes snarled, showing more emotion than Tony had ever seen in the guy before in their admittedly limited interactions. Tony’s eyes dropped to Bucky’s left arm where the new plates were shifting in response to his clenched fist. Playing with fire, Tony took a step closer to him and squared his shoulders.

“What’s your plan here Barnes? You gonna come after me? I mean you might as well. Finish the collection, you know. Third time’s the charm.” Beside Barnes, Sam quietly hissed and for half a second Tony was sure that Sam was going to let Barnes go, let him act on whatever impulses he was feeling. Barnes’ face twisted up in pain, as if Tony had slapped him, but he didn’t move, didn’t swing.

“He trusted you to have his back and you let him down. He forgave you, he expected you were gonna be there and you _weren’t_. And now they have him and you have no idea what they’ll -- what they’ll --” The pain on Barnes’ face shifted into something closer to terror, and he took a ragged breath, then another in quick succession, and another. Wide eyed, Tony realised what Barnes was fighting only because he’d learned to recognise the same signs in himself when the panic set it. Some small twisted part of him almost felt satisfied, which he felt immediately guilty about. That’s not what Steve would want. It still didn’t help soften the hate he was feeling or his desire to punch Barnes in the face. Damn him for being right -- fuck, why hadn’t he gone? Rhodey was fine, Tony _knew_ Rhodey would have been fine but by not going he’d let Steve get in over his head. It was his fault, his fuck up that had brought them to this point.

“While you were out, I manage to take down and bring in a couple of the HYDRA agents for questioning,” Natasha cut in before either he or Barnes could lash out at each other again. And god, whatever she was going to say was going to be so much worse. He knew that tone, the one that sounded like she was trying to calm a scared animal. Whatever she was going to say, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “You should sit, Tony.”

“Get to the point,” he snapped, feeling his own heart pulsing in his chest. Her eyes darted briefly from him over to Sam and they shared a look, one that suggested he and Rhodey were the only ones who didn’t yet know what she was about to say.

“It was a setup, Steve was the intended target. I’ve been following this lead for weeks now and I missed it. That’s on me,” she said, admitting her own failures.

“Still not getting to the point Romanoff,” Tony said impatiently.

“Steve was the target because they wanted a super soldier.”

“Then why not go after Barnes? Why’d they want Steve instead of their own asset?” he demanded, not caring that Barnes was standing in the room, obviously distressed.

“They wanted a clean slate. Bucky’s already been through a patchwork of conditioning over the decades and while it was obviously very effective, a strong enough memory was still able to disrupt it. They had something new they wanted to try, a new way to condition, but... They wanted a clean slate so they could properly gauge how effective it is. Control all the variables.” She was still treading carefully, tip toeing around a landmine that was waiting to be stepped on.

“So HYDRA has a new way of brainwashing. Great, just great. What do we know about it? What are they doing?” Tony stared at her and her expression softened even more, shifted into something deeply apologetic and suddenly Tony felt like he was back with Steve again, the last time they’d seen each other before the phone call, when he’d looked into Steve’s eyes and known what Steve was about to say even if he didn’t want to believe it. This was just like that again.

“They’re using modified Binarily Augmented Retro Framing.”

“What?” It was Rhodey who exploded in disbelief, of course it was, because Tony was standing there in stunned silence. His tech. His tech that he’d designed to help people, to help himself, to do some good. He shouldn’t have been surprised -- not really. Everything he made, every single good thing he made eventually got turned against him. Against the people he cared about. Against Steve.

“The MIT kid,” he said, his voice hoarse, catching in his throat. “Mark.”

Natasha nodded, confirming. “Local police have already arrested him and brought him in for questioning. He admitted everything. He’s disillusioned, believed in HYDRA to the core. New world order and everything. He bought into the whole rhetoric. So he saw an opportunity to buy his way in, impress them with propriety Stark Tech. Kid had no idea just how valuable the information he had was.”

Yeah, that made sense. Tony hadn’t given him the plans or the blueprints or anything -- he wasn’t that dumb -- but he’d handed over a hell of a lot of information on the the theory, the logistics of how it worked. It was enough that a team of smart HYDRA scientists would be able to run with it, recreate something approximating it. Sure, it probably wouldn’t be quite as effective or run quite as smoothly. But they could probably get something to work. Certainly well enough to mess Steve up, and okay, that explains why Barnes was fighting a panic attack. He knew better than anyone else what Steve was up against, what’d they’d do to him. They were going to take Steve away in the worst way possible.

“Tony --” He must have looked ready to collapse because a second later Rhodey was back at his side, an arm under his shoulders to keep him up. And of course this was going to happen, he should have anticipated it, or something like it. Because the BARF was something he made, something that should have been good. Which inevitably meant that it was only a matter of time before it went to shit. That’s just how he worked, that was his legacy. He was a nuclear weapon and everything he touched turned to ash.

And now Steve was going to suffer the consequences.

Fuck that.

At this point Tony couldn’t care less if it was him being dragged down, fine, he was used to it. But he’d already decided that he was done letting innocent people get dragged down with him, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to let it happen to Steve either. He wasn’t going to let something he created be what turned Steve against himself. He wasn’t going to let HYDRA take Steve away from any of them. And if their places were reversed, there wasn’t a doubt in Tony’s mind that Steve would be charging in head first to save him. Consequences be damned. Pushing himself back up, Tony squared his shoulders. “I’m going after him.”

“Tony you --” Rhodey started before Tony cut him off.

“Yes I can, and I will.”

“But you don’t even know --”

“-- where he is? Please. If Natasha Romanoff could pry out the Master Plan from our guest, of course she managed to get Steve’s location. Come on.” Pulling out his phone Tony tapped a few keys and a second later a small projected display appeared. “FRIDAY once you have Steve’s location I need Satellite imaging of the area.”

This, he could do. This was a problem that needed solving, this was something broken that needed fixing. This was his Steve that needed saving. His Steve that he loved, and who, probably, maybe, cared about him, too.

“Hey, Cylon, get over here,” he called, motioning at Bucky who startled, glancing quickly to Sam before looking back at Tony. “Yes, you, the one with the arm. Get over here. I need you.”

Bucky was still hesitating, and damnit they didn’t have time for this. “Look, you want to punch me in the face, take a number. You’re not the first in line. But it’s not going to help us get Steve back. You want to start redeeming yourself? Then get your ass over here and help me because you’re the only one who knows what we’re going up against and I cannot believe that I am saying this, but I need your help. But I will do this without you if I have to because goddamnit, those bastards took him and it’s my fault. They took him and now they’re trying to use something I created to break the one of the few things I actually love and that’s not going to happen. Not on my watch. So you either help me, or you get the fuck out. Your choice.”

Nodding stiffly, Bucky made his way over to Tony’s side, Sam drifting in behind him.

“We’ll get the jet ready,” Clint announced, taking Wanda with him. “Nat’ll stay here with you guys.”

Tony was only half paying attention, his mind already running full speed, balancing variables and plans. He could do this. He was damn well going to do this or die trying. “Alright, Buckaroo. Tell me everything you know.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky was the one who ended up leading the charge on operation Rescue-Steve’s-Ass-and-then-never-let-him-out-of-sight-again. Not the official name for the op, but that’s what Tony was calling it in his head, which, really, was all that mattered. Point was, Bucky had the most knowledge about what they were walking into, about the layout of the base, the defences they were up against, how HYDRA moved and operated, where they’d find Steve, so he was taking the lead and Tony was standing in as his second. Tony’s whole view was kind of shifting sideways because really? Here he was storming into a HYDRA base, which, okay, that part was normal, but he was doing it while following the lead of Bucky Barnes, the fucking Winter Soldier, the man who killed his family, off on a half-cocked plan to save the man he loved.

Yeah, on the list of unbelievable turns his life had taken, this ranked pretty damn high.

On the short flight over to the drop zone Bucky had asked him about that last bit.

“Did you mean it?” Bucky asked quietly when there was a lull and they were stuck in the painful holding pattern of waiting. “When you said you loved him. Did you mean it?”

In that moment Tony really, really wished that he could have just thrown him out of the plane. He should have just flown there himself, anything to avoid the incredibly awkward conversation that he was staring in the face.

“It’s complicated,” he said brusquely, and surprisingly Bucky chuckled, more just a short huff than an actual laugh but it probably counted.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Bucky responded and for a brief moment Bucky’s eyes flitted over to Wilson, who was going over the assault plan with Clint and T’Challa. Huh, now _that_ was interesting.

“But that doesn’t answer my question,” Bucky continued, focused back on Tony now. “Do you love him?”

Lying would be easier. Shutting the conversation down and telling Barnes to mind his own damn business would be easier. Literally anything would be easier than responding and admitting out loud -- again -- what he already knew he felt and had been trying damn hard to ignore.

“Yeah, I do,” Tony admitted because fuck it, at this point it wasn’t like he had anything else to lose. It wasn’t like everyone didn’t already know, that Steve didn’t know, even if he’d never actually said it. “But like I said, it’s… complicated.”

“Yeah, I get that. We’ll get him back and you can work on uncomplicating it,” Bucky promised, and suddenly Tony was struck by a burning desire to _know_.

“Were you and he? Did you ever --” The shake of Bucky’s head cut him off before he needed to find a way to finish that sentence.

“No. God, no. Never. Not like that,” Bucky said making a face. “I mean, I love him, don’t get me wrong. He never gave up on me, I would have died in Italy on a table without him, I would have a died a dozen times over. I would never have found myself again. And I never gave up on him either, even when everyone else had. He’s… I love him but he’s...” Bucky petered off, seemingly unsure of how to finish. But Tony understood.

He glanced over at Rhodey, who was watching him carefully from the other side of the plane, eyes carefully trained on Bucky, ready to step in in case the conversation went south. Yeah, Tony understood what Bucky was trying to say. Steve had been right all those weeks ago when he’d said that if their positions were reversed, if it was Rhodey in Bucky’s place, he’d have done the same thing. He’d have burned the world to ground if he had to.

Bucky looked relieved when Tony told him he understood and that was that. There was no shovel talk, no threats, no encouragement. Just a quiet understanding between them, the driving force behind the awkward team up and the reluctant trust.

Not long after that, calm was replaced by the chaos of a full assault on enemy territory, a good seventy percent of the chaos caused by him and Rhodey serving as the distractions, trying to confuse the HYDRA guards and keep the attention on them -- for now. They were covering for Clint, T’Challa and Sam, who were going in through the front just as HYDRA would expect. Because HYDRA obviously hadn’t realised that the Avengers had brought someone with them who knew the layout, and how to sneak in through hidden underground emergency exits. So while the rest of them were causing a scene in the front, Bucky was leading Natasha and Wanda up from beneath -- surround the enemy from all sides in their own base, that was the plan.

“We’re in,” Bucky informed them. “Steve’s going to be down in the medical facility, which is next to the detention block.” A quiet, angry cuss that Tony didn’t quite understand followed Bucky’s update -- Wanda, he realised, and yeah sometimes he forgot that she, too, was all too familiar with the inside of HYDRA test labs.

“Alright, T’Challa, move your crew inside. You need to get to the server room ASAP.” Tony called, moving them onto the next phase of their plan. “Need to make sure that we wipe every last trace of the BARF from their system. Get that link I gave you plugged in and FRIDAY can help.”

“Damnit, Iron Man you need a new name for that thing,” Sam cussed as he shot down two agents blocking the loading bay entrance they were going through.

“Less snarking, more moving, Wilson,” Tony admonished. “FRIDAY has a render of the building floor plan, or at least as good as she could manage. I’m sending it to you, this and Barnes’ intel should get you where you’re going. Server room looks like it’s about four levels down and east of your position, going by the power draw.”

Shots rang out and a split second later Tony heard the ping of bullets ricocheting off his armour. Turns out when he wasn’t looking another wave had shown up to defend the entrance. Stupid, really, since both parties were already inside but hey, Tony wasn’t going to complain. Except for the fact that the more guys that showed up to block his way, the longer it was going to take him to get to Steve, which, really, that was unacceptable at this point. Steve had already been shot when he was taken, god only knew what else had happened in the meantime.

“Okay, I’m done with this,” Rhodey said a second before launching one of the mini missiles and blowing up the ground right in front of the line of agents, putting them out of action and leaving enough space for the two of them to get inside.

Moving through the corridors in the suit slowed them down a little as they were met by wave after wave of guards -- and seriously where the hell did HYDRA find this many guys anyway?

“This base is a lot more heavily fortified than usual,” Bucky grunted over the comms.

“Okay, that’s freaky, did you just read my mind? Because I feel like you just read my mind,” Tony responded as he fired a repulsor blast down the corridor.

“Obviously they were prepared for an assault. They have high value targets and tech here. This number of trained front line strike agents is abnormal.”

“Stark. We’re outside the server room but we’re taking heavy fire. We’re pinned down here.,” Clint gritted.

“Rhodey, go bail them out,” Tony ordered. “We need to get into that room and I’m not losing anyone else.” Rhodey nodded and took off down the corridor opposite, leaving Tony standing on his own. “Barnes, we’re going to have to be prepared for extra resistance once we get to Steve.”

“They’re going to be prepared,” Bucky agreed. “Be ready for them to try and blow us to hell.”

“Well, that sounds like fun,” Natasha said dryly.

It made sense, really. They’d managed to get inside, of course HYDRA was going to throw everything that they had at defending the two places of highest value. And they had the advantage -- they were prepared for an attack, they knew who they were up against, and they had a lot at stake. But not as much as Tony did. Nowhere near. If they didn’t pull this off, if they couldn’t get Steve out... Honestly Tony couldn’t even bare to think about it. His mind just refused to even consider that a possibility. Either both he and Steve made it out of this, or neither of them did.

Continuing to the end of the corridor, Tony found a found a freight elevator and grinned. “Barnes, you said that Steve’s probably on the lowest level?”

“Yeah, that’s where they usually do this kind of shit. It’s the most secure spot and the easiest to cordon off if shit hits the fan.”

Grabbing the door to the elevator, Tony managed to pry it open, exposing the the long shaft. Poking his head in, he looked up and down. Perfect, the car was already down at the lowest level. “Time to expedite this process,” he announced, and jumped down the shaft, letting himself free fall most of the way, firing shots to blast open the roof of the car. In just a few seconds he managed to clear every level and at the last second kicked on the repulsors to slow himself just enough that he could gently drop through the still-smoldering hole in the roof of the car.

“Tony, are you alright?” Rhodey yelled, and behind it Tony could just make out the faint sound of gunfire.

“Never better, cupcake.” He threw open the door of the elevator and went to step out back in the corridor only to be faced on two sides with over a dozen guns pointed at him.

“Huh… well I probably should have seen that coming,” he admitted, raising both hands and aiming at the groups as the repulsors whirled to life.

“Make this easy on yourself and stand down,” one of the guys in front ordered, clearly the one who thought he was in charge. Tony snorted in reply.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. You have something of mine and I’m not leaving until I get it back.”

“Shit,” Tony heard in his ear. “Stark, hang in there, we’re on our way.”

Tony didn’t bother to respond to Barnes or tell him that really, he could handle a few assholes, even if a couple of them seemed to be packing some pretty heavy firepower.

“Boss, I’d suggest you tread carefully,” FRIDAY chimed in. “It looks like at least four of these agents are armed with weapons that could do some serious damage to the armour.”

“Yeah thanks, I’m getting that,” Tony muttered. He could retreat, the elevator shaft was still open. He could pull back, find another way, but all that would do would be to give HYDRA more time to dig their heels in, more time to get Steve out, more time to inflict who knew what kind of damage. No, these bastards were between him and Steve, and Tony was going to charge right through them if he had to.

One of the agents to his right shouldered the cannon that he was carrying, taking aim, and yeah, that was going to hurt like hell if it hit. Natasha’s intel about HYDRA’s weapons acquisition clearly hadn’t been completely wrong, they were armed to the teeth with anti-avengers weapons and Tony was trapped in a tiny corridor with no room to manoeuvre.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t suggesting doing that,” Tony said casually to Cannon Guy, who merely sneered in reply.

“And why is that?” he asked, the barrel remaining pointed firmly at Tony as he shifted a few paces.

“Well, first of all, that gun you’re carrying packs a pretty big punch, and you’re going to risk doing as much damage to yourself and your building as you are me,” Tony said casually. That part probably wasn’t all that true, but maybe this guy was just an idiot who didn’t know his own gear. “Second of all, if you try and blow us all up, you’re going to really end up pissing off him.” With a tilt of his head Tony gestured to behind the group where Bucky had just rounded the corner and was rushing towards the group like a man on a mission. Tony dropped to the ground a split second before all hell broke loose. Again.

Cannon Guy fired and the shot passed through the space Tony had just been occupying, exploding inside the elevator car, the force of the blast shooting up through the hole in the roof, shaking through the whole shaft. Right, looks like they weren’t going back out that way. Tony was back on his feet and firing shots of his own before Cannon Guy could reload. Barnes was punching his way through the crowd of agents with brutal efficiency, moving with speed and grace that was frankly terrifying. Watching him, Tony very quickly realised that while he had been trying his damnedest to hurt Bucky and take him out, Barnes had been pulling his punches, fighting just enough to defend himself. Had he actually been trying to hurt Tony… well, things might have ended a lot differently, and that was something he was going to have to file away to think about some day when he wasn’t being shot at.

“Barnes, nice of you to show up,” Tony yelled as he started shooting at the group down the other corridor. A grunt was all the reply that Tony got as Bucky threw a guy into the wall in his effort to make his way towards the leader of the pack. The leader, who was right there when Bucky turned around, the leader who was ballsy enough to step forward and press a gun against Bucky’s forehead.

“Stand down, asset,” he said calmly, and for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity the two stared at each other unmoving. Until Bucky’s eyes narrowed slightly and and cocky, almost manic grin slowly spread across his face.

“My name is Bucky. And I’m not your damn asset,” he said, before grabbing the gun and twisting it out of the man’s hand. In the space of a beat the man was on the ground, unconscious, their positions reversed with Bucky pointing a gun at him. For a moment Tony was sure Bucky was going to shoot -- probably wouldn’t have blamed him if he had, honestly -- but instead Bucky tucked the gun away and turned. “We need to move,” he said, not sparing a look back at Tony.

The rest of the trek over to the science-medical-detention-whatever the hell else it was wing was quiet. Too quiet, if Tony were being honest. The kind of eerie quiet that usually meant nothing but very ungood things.

“Tony, we have a problem,” Sam cut in. “T’Challa is trying to whip their system but they’re actively trying to do a remote back up at the same time. They’re pulling stuff faster than we can erase it.”

“Not good, Wilson. We can’t let them get anything. Tell T’Challa to ping wherever they’re uploading to. If FRIDAY can get in then we can destroy the data from the inside and disrupt the connection remotely.” One more thing that he was going to have to follow up on. Goddamn HYDRA. They’d been blindsided because they’d had their heads too far up their asses with all this infighting, and HYDRA had used that against them, made a play when they were distracted, and it had been nothing but playing catch up this whole time. Stupid, stupid of them.

“We found him!” Rounding the corner into the new wing, it was Wanda’s voice that greeting them, her eyes wide with panic. At the end of the hall, behind a heavy glass wall, they could see what looked like two scientists and half a dozen more armed guards, two of which were dragging a bleeding and unconscious-looking Steve between them. Without a second’s hesitation Tony fired a blast and the entire glass wall shattered.

“My turn,” he said, launching himself directly at one of the scientists and knocking him into a wall. Behind him he was dimly aware of the fact that Bucky, Natasha and Wanda were all following him, taking down the guards before they could escape but the only thing that Tony had eyes for were the people trying to drag Steve away. One of them pulled a gun and fired at Tony, the bullets bouncing off harmlessly. The other -- smarter of the two really -- pulled a gun and held it to Steve’s head.

“One step closer,” he warned and Tony froze. Surely they wouldn’t risk killing Steve, not after all the work they’d gone through to bring him in, not now that they were trying to get him out of the base alive, but Tony wasn’t about to gamble with Steve’s life. Slowly, carefully, he raised his hands.

“Okay, okay, settle down there, Trigger Happy,” Tony said carefully, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten even more. From this angle he could actually see all the damage done to Steve, the bullet wound through his abdomen that hadn’t healed, another through his leg, the blood dried along his temple, something that looked like a burn on his arm, bruises across his skin that hadn’t had the chance to heal, definitely a few cracked ribs. God, he was going to rip these people limb from limb if he got the chance.

“You’re going to stay right where you are, we’re going to leave and no one is going to get hurt,” one of Steve’s captors said as his hold on his gun loosened fractionally. Tony didn’t even have time to blink before two rapid shots went off, followed by an incredibly messy blood splatter, and both men dropped to the ground dead. Behind them stood Natasha, stone faced and guns still raised. Rushing forward, Tony caught Steve before he hit the ground.

“Steve. Oh, fuck, Steve. Come on, wake up please. Talk to me,” Tony pleaded cradling Steve against him. Steve’s eyes opened a crack and they were bleary and unfocused.

“Tony?” Steve said, voice weak and confused. The next second, the alarms clicked in, a blaring red alert that felt like it was rattling through Tony’s skull.

“Shit, we need to move. Now,” Barnes ordered, dropping his hand from where it had been resting on Natasha’s shoulder in what looked like a show of comfort. “That’s the evacuation alarm. They’re going to blow this place.”

“How much time do we have?” Tony asked, his heart thudding in his chest.

“About seven minutes if we’re lucky.” Bucky responded, dropping to a crouch beside Steve. “Come on you punk, we need to get you out of here.”

“Buck?” Steve asked, confused. “Tony... what’s going on?”

“You need to carry him, Stark,” Bucky said, ignoring Steve’s question for the time being. “They’ve got him drugged, he’s not going to be able to think or move fast enough on his own.”

“Drugged him? How? His metabolism...” Tony argued weakly, already rising to his feet and picking Steve up in his arms -- something he’d never be able to do without the suit.

“Yeah, well. They’ve had time to practise long before they ever got him,” Bucky said flatly. And oh, right, of course they would. “We don’t have time to go back up to the surface, we’re going to have to go out the way that we came in.”

Nodding, Wanda stepped up and took the lead, a look of fierce determination on her face and Natasha fell into step beside her. Those two… Wanda was already a force to be reckoned with but Tony suspected that she’d been training a lot with Natasha in the time that they’d been working together, and that was kind of terrifying. They were damn lucky Wanda decided she was on their side.

Even with Tony carrying Steve and Wanda leading them on the most efficient route out, the going was still a lot slower than Tony would have liked. They were deep inside the complex, there was only one access point to the escape route, and the clock was ticking.

“Three minutes, Boss,” FRIDAY warned, sounding anxious in his ear.

“Not helping,” Tony murmured back, picking up the pace.

“Through here,” Bucky commanded, throwing open a door that led to a narrow set of stairs and down into a tunnel. “The tunnel is going to be set to collapse. How fast can you hotwire that jeep?” Bucky asked, pointing to the utility vehicle that was parked in the tunnel. Gingerly, Tony set Steve in the front seat and Bucky slipped in beside him to help hold him up. Retracting the gauntlets, Tony quickly set to work, ripping down the panel from under the steering column and pulling out the wires.

“Come on, we can do this,” he murmured to himself. “Natasha, get ready to drive.”

The seconds were ticking down, Tony could feel them, and it was only the fact that he was used to working under intense pressure in life or death situations that kept his hands from shaking.

“End of this tunnel puts us under an abandoned warehouse. We get out that way,” Bucky said, and Tony was only half paying attention, wrestling with trying to get this damn jeep to start. If he didn’t,they were all going to end up crushed under steel and metal.

“Come on, please,” Tony begged under his breath, and someone had to be looking out for him because just then the jeep purred to life. “Alright go!” he yelled, and Natasha wasted no time flooring it, taking off down corridor with Tony flying behind.

“One minute forty three seconds if Sgt. Barnes’ estimate is accurate,” FRIDAY warned as Natasha continued to gain speed. Tony could see the end of the tunnel in the distance, they could do this.

“Rhodey, please tell me you’re clear.”

“Affirmative. We’re clear of the building and we were able to wipe their backups,” Rhodey responded and Tony breathed a sigh of relief. At least something was going right.

“Sixty seconds.”

“Can it, FRIDAY,” Tony snapped. The constant updates weren’t going to get them out any faster and were only serving to make Tony feel like he was about to throw up. Sixty seconds. Fifty-four more likely.

They were nearly at the end of the corridor. “Hold on!” Natasha yelled and slammed on the breaks and the jeep came to a squealing halt. A split second later Tony was on the ground, pulling Steve free from the jeep.

“Move!” He ordered as together the four of them ran for the door way. Wanda, Natasha, then him, finally Bucky, pulling the steel clad door closed behind them. Up a flight of stairs, then one more, all of them breathing hard as the adrenaline coursed through them. At the top Natasha kicked the door open and they tumbled through just as the unmistakable sound of a chain explosion filled the air.

“Tony! Tony, respond,” came Rhodey’s panicked voice as the floor of the warehouse rumbled from the shock waves of the blasts in the tunnel. For half a second Tony thought that the floor was going to give out and please, not that, not now that they’d made it. But it held.

“We’re clear, Rhodey, we’re clear. And we have Steve. He’s --” Tony looked down at Steve, unmoving as he was slumped against Tony’s side.

“We need medical evac now,” Tony ordered, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Steve isn’t breathing.”

==

Waiting was quite possibly the worst thing ever. Steve had been rushed to a vetted hospital and been immediately taken in for surgery while Tony and the rest of the crew had been directed to a waiting room. It had been a hellish couple of hours. Tony was certain that Barnes was seconds away from punching a hole in the wall, especially when a nurse had come in to tell them that Steve was stable and in recovery, but that they weren’t allowed to see him yet. Tony had to respect the nurse, who was clearly made of stern stuff, not even flinching when Bucky had glared daggers at her. After some sweet talking from Sam, she’d eventually agreed to let them in -- but only two at a time and only for a few minutes. As much as Tony had wanted to shove everyone out of the way he stepped back and allowed Bucky to go in first with Sam.

“Thanks. I’m going to take him back to the room after, he needs sleep and I’m afraid he’s actually gonna snap if we stay here much longer,” Sam said quietly before they slipped out. Clint, Wanda, Rhodey and T’Challa had all gone back to the hotel once they’d heard Steve was okay, so once Sam had managed to guide Bucky out for the good of everyone involved, it left Tony sitting quietly with Natasha, who was there, he knew, mostly because she didn’t want him to be alone and Rhodey had been wiped after pushing himself a little hard his first time back in the field.

Natasha was silent, possibly because she was trying to give Tony the peace that he needed, but if Tony had to hazard a guess he’d have said it was probably more to do with her wrestling her own guilt as the two waited for the go ahead to go in and see Steve.

“You know, I did a lot of digging, looking into the Winter Soldier program recently,” Tony said eventually, breaking the silence between them. “You knew him, didn’t you? Before, I mean.”

Something unreadable passed over Natasha’s face as she met Tony’s gaze. He’d asked only out of curiosity, looking for some missing piece of the puzzle, not with any hostile intent. There was no energy left for that.

“He trained me in the Red Room. For a while,” she said eventually, choosing her words carefully. Tony knew her well enough by now to know that if she didn’t want to answer him she would have said as much and left it at that. She was choosing to tell him, to trust him with a part of herself, no doubt for reasons of her own.

“I was the only one that he trained,” she continued, her voice surprisingly steady, “The Red Room, in the beginning, there were dozens of us. All girls, all young. We lived together. They let us be friends. Then they dropped us in the tundra, two weeks’ walk from home with just enough supplies for one of us to survive.” The implication of what she was saying sat heavy on Tony’s shoulders and she smiled, tight lipped. It didn’t reach her eyes. She was the only one the Winter Soldier trained.

“I told Steve back when this all started that I thought that staying together was more important than how we stayed together. It’s why I signed. I didn’t want them to push us out into the cold.”

Before Tony could respond the nurse returned, ready to take them into Steve’s room. They both got to their feet and Tony hesitated. “Natasha, I --” She cut him off, giving his arm a gentle squeeze and he responded with an awkward half hug. But she understood what he wasn’t saying.

“Go and see him, I’m going to go back to the hotel,” she said, confirming that she’d stayed mostly just to keep him company. She was good like that.

“Hey Nat?” he called. She paused and turned back around. “Thanks. For, you know... Everything.” Natasha smiled at him, small but genuine, before leaving. Silently, Tony turned the other way and followed the nurse into Steve’s room.

Steve was still asleep, which was fine. Tony was perfectly content to settle into the the chair next to the bed and wait, watching the rise and fall of Steve’s chest with each breath. The moment that he’d realised that Steve wasn’t breathing, Tony had been fairly certain that his own heart was going to stop. Steve hadn’t been gone that long but still it had felt like eternity. It was only now, sitting by Steve’s side, that Tony realised just how long it had been since he slept -- since he’d gotten up to go to the meetings in Geneva, and god, how long ago was that? The exhaustion was catching up now, weighing heavily on him. But he wasn’t going anywhere, not until Steve woke up and saw that he was safe and everything was okay.

At one point the nurse came back in, bringing him a cup of coffee and a bottle of water, which he took gratefully. He must have looked like a wreck, the nurse looked so concerned as she smiled sympathetically at him and reassured him that Steve should be awake soon. All he could do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Until there was a slight shift in Steve’s breath. Until he began to stir. Until slowly, ever so slowly, his eyes opened and took in their surroundings. Until Steve carefully turned his head and their eyes met. Until Steve smiled at him like he was the most perfect thing in the universe and reached up to brush a thumb against Tony’s cheek as Tony leaned against the bed.

“Such a sap,” Tony said, his own hands coming up to take Steve’s. Steve dropped his arm and Tony didn’t let go, their hands staying linked as they rested on the bed.

“You’re here,” Steve said, his voice rough around the edges.

“Of course I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Tony reassured him, passing Steve the bottle of water with his spare hand. “Look, Steve, I’m sorry. I can’t say that enough, I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he sipped the water and then set it aside on the little table. “For what?” he asked.

Tony blinked a few times, confused. “For what?” he repeated in disbelief. “For getting you into this mess. For letting you get shot. For not coming when you needed back up. You were relying on me and I wasn’t there.”

“Hey, hey don’t start that,” Steve murmured, rubbing his thumb along the back of Tony’s hand. “Come on, it’s not your fault Tony. And I’m okay. I think, anyway.”

“You are. Or you will be. You got a little bit shot, a little bit beat up and I think I think a lot bit drugged. But those are mostly out of your system now, the docs say. Sleep, eat, the doctors say your healing should take care of the rest. They should be letting you out soon and then we can all go home.”

Steve regarded him carefully, his smiling faltering a little. “Can we, though?” he asked, his grip on Tony’s hand tightening a little.

“I mean... That was kind of the point of this exercise, wasn’t it? Pardons, name clearing, getting everyone back home.”

“That’s not what I meant, Tony,” Steve pressed, dropping his gaze briefly down to their joined hands.

Tony took a deep breath and considered what he really wanted to say. “I meant it when I said that I missed you.”

“And I meant it when I didn’t actually say that I cared about you and that I always have,” Steve responded, and then hesitated. “But... it’s not that easy, is it.”

“You just woke up, we shouldn’t be talking about this right now,” Tony said, trying to avoid the very painful subject they were dancing around.

“Tony, please,” Steve said, looking up at him, his expression open and vulnerable. God, Tony hated doing this to him, he really should just shut up but...

“After Siberia, I had nightmares for a week,” Tony said, averting his eyes, “which isn’t abnormal, really. But these ones were different. These ones were about you. Every night, I’d close my eyes and I’d see you above me, how angry you were. I’d feel my chest tighten as your shield cracked through the reactor. You know, for half a second I honestly thought you were going to bring it down on my head. I’m not actually sure which is worse.” As he spoke, his hand drifted to his chest, rubbing at the scarred tissue under his shirt. His eyes drifted back to Steve’s, watching. He saw the moment the realisation dawned, he watched as Steve’s expression shifted, horrified as he reach into the back of his memory and connected the dots, saw everything slide into place as Steve realised what going after the reactor like that had brought back.

“Oh my god. Tony I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, breathing heavier now. “I didn’t -- all I wanted was for you to stop fighting. I didn’t -- the reactor, I knew it wasn’t your life support anymore. I just wanted to shut the suit down. I didn’t even think --” Steve’s eyes were wet now and he looked like he was somewhere between panic, or breaking down, or both.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Tony said quickly, shifting to sit on the edge of Steve’s bed and wrapping an arm around him. “No, it’s not. I can’t believe -- I can’t believe I did that to you,” he said, turning to press his face in Tony’s chest.

“You’re right, it’s not okay,” Tony agreed, surprising himself. “I wasn’t okay. I’m still not okay. That... yeah, not going to lie, that one’s going to stay with me for a while. But in your defence, I was trying to kill your best friend. And I had just blown his arm off, so... You know. Fair.” It probably wasn’t the best thing to say but Tony had always been shit at this sort of thing. Steve was going to have to get used to it.

“But you have to know, Steve. I thought I’d lost you. They took my tech, they tried to use it to take you away from me, they hurt you. God, Steve, when I found you down there I was so damn scared. And then you stopped breathing on me and I just -- I don’t want to lose you, Steve.”

“But we aren’t okay, are we?” Steve said, lifting up their still joined hands.

“Nope. We are definitely really far from okay, and hey, look at me, I can actually admit that, which, you know, I think is kind of great progress. Pepper and Rhodey would be proud of me. Point is... We’re not okay. But I still care about you. Hell, Steve, I love you, and I’m telling you that because at this point it’s all cards on the table. That, and I think Bucky will tell on me if I don’t tell you myself. But because I apparently love you, in the fact of all this crap that happened, I think we should try and work towards being alright. Because it turns out that I really can’t lose you.”

Afraid that he’d said too much, Tony was nervous to look at Steve. Which is why he was caught off guard when Steve’s hand slipped under his chin and tilted his head into a soft kiss. Steve’s lips against his were gentle, almost reverent. He didn’t try to deepen it or turn it into anything other than a chaste press of lips, but still, when Steve pulled away slowly Tony was almost breathless and immediately aching for another.

“I love you, too, Tony. I know I haven’t acted like it, and I fucked up. I fucked up a lot. Repeatedly and I'm so sorry. But I do I love you, I mean that. I always have, for a long time,” Steve admitted. “And I really want to work towards being alright, too, if you’d give me that chance.”

What a sight the pair of them likely made -- heavy eyed, dirt covered, battle weary and far from perfect. But it worked, or so Tony was hoping. They were going to fight. It was inevitable, they were both stubborn bastards. But Natasha had been right -- staying together was more important. Because it turned out that at the end of the day, Tony had been fucking miserable without them all, and without Steve as a constant.

“Then, yeah, we can go home.”

==

The paperwork had been a damn nightmare; the reports, the liaising with local authorities, the figuring out how it all worked under fresh new laws. But eventually the captured HYDRA agents had been brought in, the specialists were going through what was left of the base, and the clean up crews were set to start taking everything away. All in all, it could have ended a lot worse.

They’d said their goodbyes to T’Challa, Steve thanking him endlessly for everything that he’d done and promising to sort out some kind of permanent communications link, and then finally, _finally_ they were headed back to New York. It took a few more days for everyone to settle back into some semblance of a normal rhythm, to fall back into their natural patterns, but that was fine. Tony spent the entire time watching, marvelling and appreciating that he managed to get back something that he’d thought he’d lost forever. Against the odds, he’d managed some hold on to something good.

Ten days after getting back to the base, Tony drove himself and Steve into the closest town, parking in front of a small local restaurant. Steve looked at him quizzically but Tony just smiled, leaned over to kiss his cheek and led him inside. The hostess greeted them with a bright smile and guided them towards the back of the restaurant to a table that was tucked away in a private corner, already set with a carafe of wine sitting on the table. Tony pulled out Steve’s chair for him and gestured for him to sit, smiling at the ease with which Steve was moving now, rapidly recovering from his injuries.

“Tony, what’s all the about?” Steve asked once Tony was seated.

“It’s a date, Steve,” he said, as though it were obvious, because really, it was pretty damn obvious.

“A date?” Steve repeated, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“A date. Our first date.” Tony carefully poured them each a glass of wine and reached across the table to take Steve’s hand, raising his glass. “To the first step towards being alright.”

“To the first step towards being alright,” Steve agreed, softly clinking their glasses together and squeezing Tony’s hand.

Yeah, they’d definitely get there.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr!](http://dapperanachronism.tumblr.com)


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